THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SONGS  OF  A  WANDERER 


SONGS  OF  A  WANDERER 


BY 


PHILIP  M.  RASKIN 


PHILADELPHIA 

THE  JEWISH  PUBLICATION  SOCIETY  OF  AMERICA 
1917 


COPYRIGHT,  1917,  BY 
THE  JEWISH  PUBLICATION  SOCIETY  OF  AMERICA 


College 
Library 


1PS 
3535 
7 


To 

LOUIS  D.  BRAN  DEIS 
As  a  mark  of  admiration  and  respect 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  AUTUMN  RAIN n 

THE  JEWISH  CHILD 13 

MY  SONG 15 

MY  BIRTHPLACE 17 

A  GHETTO  MELODY 19 

DISILLUSION   21 

THE  INTRUDER  23 

THE  WANDERER 28 

You  COMFORT  ME 31 

A  GHETTO  MUSICIAN. 32 

SAND  AND  STARS 34 

A  GHETTO  CRADLE-SONG 36 

THE  WANDERING  JEW 39 

THE  ETERNAL  RIDDLE 42 

ISAIAH'S  VISION   45 

THE  LOTUS  PLANT 47 

To  THE  SKYLARKS , 50 

MY  PEOPLE'S  WOES 51 

THE  HOUR 54 

To  ENGLAND 55 

THE  LAST  57 

THE  STRANGER  IN  LONDON 59 

THE  HEBREW  .                                     62 


CONTENTS 


THE  STRANGER 63 

DAVID'S  HARP 65 

Two  ANGELS   75 

MESSIAH    77 

THE  DEAD  ASSEMBLY 80 

SATAN  AND  HAMAN 83 

THE  AGGADA 85 

THE  RABBI  AND  THE  PRINCESS 89 

KINDLING  THE  SABBATH  LIGHT 91 

THE  IMPRISONED  PRINCESS 93 

MY  MOTHER'S  SONG 96 

THE  DYING  POET 98 

THE  FIRST  SNOW 101 

BY  NIGHT  103 

"  How  FAIR  .  .  .  "  105 

SPRING   108 

IN  THE  WOOD no 

THE  SPRING  SKY 112 

BY  THE  SEA 113 

I  WEEP 114 

I  ASKED  THE  STARS 1 16 

A  RAY 118 

A  TEAR  AND  A  SMILE 120 

A  SPRING  NIGHT'S  DREAM 122 

To  You  125 

A  DREAM 126 

THE  LAST  MELODY 127 

To 129 


CONTENTS 


A  TREASURE  130 

IN  A  DREAM 131 

CHILDREN  132 

CHILDREN  AND  FLOWERS 133 

WHEN  I  DIE 134 

I  WILL  NOT  CHANGE 135 

I  SING  LIKE  A  BIRD  IN  THE  SKY 136 

A  DEAD  BIRD 138 

SONGS  AND  TEARS 140 

BETRAYED 141 

A  PLEDGE 142 

Two  SORROWS   143 

My  HEART   144 

Two  FATES  145 

MYSELF 146 

MY  IDEAL  148 

To  A  RICH  FRIEND 149 

To  MY  RICH  BROTHER 151 

HARP  AND  SWORD 154 

A  SONG 155 

THE  FEAST  OF  SPRING 156 

THE  SEDER   161 

THE  FEAST  OF  WEEKS 165 

HANUKKAH   LIGHTS   169 

THE  MIRACLE 172 

A  PRAYER  175 

MY  FAITH  178 

A  NEW  SONG..  181 


CONTENTS 


MY  TENANT 182 

DREAMS  OF  YOUTH 183 

PROMETHEUS    186 

THE  LINNET 188 

To  MY  NEAREST  FRIEND 189 

LIFE    191 

A  PROCESSION 193 

UNDAUNTED    196 

To  A  CRITIC  198 

Two  BIRDS   200' 

TO-MORROW    201 

AUTUMN    : 202 

MY  STAR 206 

ALONE  IN  THE  DESERT 207 

To  LIFE  208 

MY  EPITAPH    210 

THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  LOVE 211 

AND  SHOULDST  THOU  WISH  TO  KNOW 212 

AN  EVENING  PRAYER 216 

THE  JEWISH   SOLDIER 217 

Two  THRONES  220 

SPRING  AND  AUTUMN 223 

MY  KATE  225 

Two  MAGICIANS  226 

To  MY  .LOVE 229 

THE  LIM:E-TREE  231 

MY  FATE 233 


Cfce  Autumn 

pvRIPPING,  drizzling  autumn  rain, 

Beating  on  my  window-pane, 
From  my  window  on  the  ground — 
How  monotonous  a  sound ! 
Drip-drip-drip  and  drop-drop-drop, 
Long,  long  hours  without  a  stop ; 
Dripping,  drizzling,  beating  fast, 
Telling  stories  of  my  past, 
Bringing  memories  again, 
Cold  and  dismal  as  the  rain, 
Cold  and  dismal  as  the  truth 
Of  my  childhood,  of  my  youth, 
That  arrived  and  passed  away 
Like  a  drizzling  autumn  day. 
Drip-drip-drip  and  drop-drop-drop, 
All  day  long  without  a  stop ! 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Drizzle,  drip,  and  tell  me  more — 
What  my  future  has  in  store. 
Tell,  I  pray  you,  like  a  friend, 
Will  my  autumn  ever  end  ? 
What !  foretell  you  exile,  pain ! 
Nothing  new,  O  foolish  rain ! 
Exile  is  my  people's  nurse, 
From  our  cradle  to  our  hearse. 
Drip-drip-drip  and  drop-drop-drop, 
All  day  long  without  a  stop. 
Can  you  tell  no  other  thing  ? 
Better  stop,  so  I  may  sing, 
Sing  the  life-song  of  a  Jew — 
I  can  sadlier  sing  than  you. 


THE  JEWISH  CHILD  13 


C&e  Jetoi0j)  CirilD 

T_J  E  is  a  child,  and  yet  he  is 

Much  older  than  his  years  ; 
He  laughs,  but  in  his  laugh  is  oft 
More  sadness  than  in  tears. 

He  frisks  and  sports,  but  'mid  his  pranks 

He  stares ;  and  in  his  face 
You  read,  as  in  an  open  book, 

The  drama  of  his  race. 

And  in  his  deep,  dark,  sparkling  eyes 

You  see  his  people's  doom : 
They  mirror  both  bright  eastern  skies 

And  northern  mist  and  gloom. 

He  plays,  he  capers  like  a  child, 

But  oft  it  seems  to  you 
That  in  a  moment  he  will  grow 

An  old,  a  wandering  Jew. 


i4  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

He  frolics,  but  his  very  glee 
With  pathos  is  entwined ; 

He's  child  and  man,  he's  young  and  old, 
He's  joy  and  gloom  combined. 


MY  SONG 


C  HE  stood  before  me  gay  and  youthful, 
With  radiant  face  and  pleading  eyes : 
"  O  sing  me,  friend,  a  song  of  freedom, 
Of  love,  and  youth,  and  cloudless  skies." 

0  child,  I'd  sing  of  love  and  freedom, 
But  know  not  how  that  song  to  start : 

The  world — my  stepmother — in  childhood 
Of  childhood's  joy  deprived  my  heart. 

Not  with  a  song  my  mother  cradled 
And  lulled  her  darling  boy  to  sleep :, 

The  mothers  of  my  hapless  people, 
They  seldom  sing  and  often  weep.   ^ 

1  craved  for  freedom  in  my  childhood : 

The  field  in  spring  was  sweet  and  good ; 
But  Jewish  boys  must  learn  the  Torah, 
And  caper  not  in  field  or  wood. 


16  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

My  youthless  youth  passed  in  the  ghetto, 
Where  joy  and  mirth  are  sought  in  vain  ; 
I  wandered  through  the  world  a  stranger, 
A  friendless  and  a  homeless  Cain. 

\  O  ask  not  for  a  song  of  freedom, 

A  song  that  gladdens  and  that  cheers : 
The  world — my  stepmother — has  taught  me 
One  only  song,  the  song  of  tears. 


MY  BIRTHPLACE  17 


VTOT  in  frolic,  joy,  and  freedom, 

Is,  O  friend,  my  childhood  gone ; 
In  the  place  my  mother  bore  me 
Sun  of  freedom  never  shone. 

There,  my  friend,  where  every  life-beam 
Is  in  clouds  of  death  concealed, 

Where  Cain's  curse :  "  Forever  wander," 
On  each  human  brow  is  sealed. 

Where  men  come  and  go  like  shadows, 
Pray,  and  fast,  and  toil,  and  slave, 

Life  on  earth  devoutly  crushing 
For  a  dream  beyond  the  grave. 

Where,  of  earthly  life  despairing, 

Men  in  vain  to  heaven  look ; 
Where  man's  heart  and  soul  are  buried 

In  the  pages  of  a  book. 


1 8  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Where  man's  thought  forever  hovers 
In  a  lifeless  space  of  gloom ; 

Where  the  brightest  youth  is  youthless, 
Fairest  plants  fade  ere  they  bloom. 

In  the  ghetto,  friend,  the  ghetto, 
Where  all  hopes  at  birth  decay, 

There  my  mother  bore  and  nursed  me, 
There  my  childhood  passed  away. 


A  GHETTO  MELODY  19 


(After  the  Yiddish) 

IF  only  the  trees  could  have  learned  my  language, 

To  them  I  would  tell  my  sad  tale ; 
And  willow,  and  chestnut,  and  oak  in  the  forest 
My  fate  would  bewail. 

If  only  the  blades  with  .my  speech  were  acquainted, 

To  them  I  my  pain  would  reveal : 
The  pain  of  an  errant,  the  pain  of  a  vagrant, 

That  no  one  can  heal. 

If  only  the  roses  my  tongue  could  have  mastered, 
My  tears  they  would  drink  'stead  of  dew : 

The  tears  of  a  child  of  the  fields  and  the  flowers 
With  grief  of  a  Jew. 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


For  I,  a  descendant  of  that  ancient  people 
Who  gods  to  the  world  has  supplied, 

Alas,  had  no  God  left  to  me  who  could  listen, 
When  pining  I  cried. 

If  only  the  roses,  the  blades,  and  the  breezes 
Could  feel  the  sad  note  of  my  song, 

The  rose  would  be  trembling,  the  breeze  would 

be  moaning, 
Like  me  all  day  long ! 


DISILLUSION 


Disillusion 

I     TOO,  have  built  enchanted  towers 

And  phantom  castles  in  the  air, 
I,  too,  have  dreamt  of  fragrant  flowers 
That  ever  sweet  remain  and  fair. 

I,  too,  believed  in  treasures  hidden — 
In  love  and  youth  that  never  fade ; 

But  in  the  flowered  groves  of  Eden 
How  short  a  time,  O  friend,  I  stayed ! 

Long  ere  I  climbed  youth's  magic  steeple, 
I  knew  life's  sorrows,  tears,  and  pains ; 

I  saw  a  great  and  ancient  people  — 
That  freed  the  world — in  servile  chains. 

I  saw  it  racked,  and  cursed,  and  banished 
For  teaching  mankind  love  and  truth, 

And  one  by  one  my  sweet  dreams  vanished 
Together  with  my  youthless  youth. 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


And  in  the  sound  of  fetters'  rattle 
And  in  the  groans  of  slaves  meseems 

I  hear  a  voice :  "  In  life's  fierce  battle, 
O  child,  there  is  no  room  for  dreams." 


THE  INTRUDER  23 


C&e  SntruDer 

S~\  NCE  in  my  secluded  chamber, 

Late  at  night,  I  read 
Israel's  ancient,  wondrous  story; 
How  he  shone,  and  shed 

Light  around  him,  in  his  homeland 

Thriving  free  and  great. 
Then  my  thoughts  passed  slowly  onward 

To  his  present  fate. 

Israel,  homeless,  footsore,  captive, 

Into  exile  goes, 
And  the  world  has  long  forgotten 

What  to  him  it  owes. 

"  Gentile  world !  you  have  polluted 
Springs  from  which  you  drank." 

In  such  sad  recriminations, 
On  my  couch  I  sank. 


24  SONGS   OF  A    WANDERER 

Stealthily  an  old  man  entered 

My  secluded  room ; 
On  his  breast  a  cross  suspended, 

In  his  eyes  deep  gloom. 

"  You  accused  me,  and  I  answer : 
Yours,  not  mine,  the  blame 

For  your  exile,  for  your  downfall, 
For  your  grief  and  shame. 

Not  I,  no,  but  you  polluted 

Your  eternal  spring ; 
Home  and  faith  and  pride  abandoned, 

And  to  exile  cling. 

'Tis  you  who  at  alien  altars 

Kneel  to  alien  gods ; 
You  who,  as  in  cast-off  garments, 

Deal  in  cast-off  thoughts ; 


THE  INTRUDER  25 


Gather  crumbs  from  strangers'  tables, 

Colder  crumbs  than  stone ; 
And  you  glory  that  you  have  no 

Table  of  your  own. 

Faith  and  truth  and  pride — all  treasures 

You  did  prize  of  old  ; 
For  a  lentil-mess  your  birthright 

Long  ago  you  sold. 

You  no  longer  feel  the  horror 

Of  a  slave's  disgrace; 
Do  you  ask  me  to  respect  you, 

Honor  such  a  race? 

You  of  old  had  heroes,  prophets, 

Noble,  great,  and  true ; 
How  much  of  their  daring  spirit 

Is  there  left  in  you  ? 


26  SONGS  OF  A   WANDERER 

Maccabeans  as  your  forebears 

In  your  boast  you  claim ; 
If  they  knew  their  grandsons,  they  would 

Die  again — of  shame ! 

Dead  is  all  your  pride  and  valor, 

Dead  your  sacred  tongue  ; 
Speech  of  bards  and  kings  and  prophets 

To  oblivion  flung. 

And  your  home  that  waits  deserted 

Do  you  e'er  recall  ? 
Where  are  all  your  rich  and  mighty, 

Mammon's  high  priests  all? 

Like  deserters  they  are  sailing 

Under  foreign  flags — 
Lackeys,  who  their  masters'  mantles 

Wear  to  hide  their  rags. 


THE  INTRUDER  27 

Crumbs  of  bread  and  beggars'  lodging — 

Dare  no  more  expect ! 
No,  a  race  that  loses  honor 

No  one  can  respect ! 

Now  good-by,  and  cease  to  blame  me 
For  your  shame  and  yoke." 

"  Stay !  "  I  shrieked,  "  I  wish  to  answer ! 
Stay !  " — and  I  awoke. 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Cfje 

YA7  ITH  my  wanderer's  staff  in  hand, 
Thus  I  tramp  from  land  to  land, 
Nowhere  rinding  home  and  rest 
For  my  wounded,  weary  breast, 
Ever  hearing  all  day  long 
Ev'ry where  the  same  old  song: 
Round  the  earth,  and  to  and  fro, 
Ever  go ! 

Go,  no  clime  must  you  allure, 
Go,  you  are  too  rich,  too  poor, 
Go,  you  are  too  weak,  too  strong, 
Go  along! 

Brother  dear,  oh,  dost  thou  know — 

Where  to  go  ? 

Go  from  North — for  life's  sake  go ; 
Go  from  West — for  our  sake  go ; 


THE  WANDERER  29 

Go  from  here — you  seem  too  pale ; 
Go  from  there — you  look  too  frail ; 
Go,  you  are  too  weak,  too  bold, 
Go,  you  are  too  young,  too  old, 
Go — too  simple,  go — too  clever, 
Go  forever! 

Here  a  peril,  there  a  danger, 
Ev'rywhere  a  stranger,  stranger, 
Ev'rywhere,  all  men  among — 
Go  along ! 

Brother  dear,  oh,  dost  thou  know — 

Where  to  go  ? 

Friends  who  feel  my  pain  and  shame 
Bid  me  back  to  whence  I  came, 
To  the  clime  that  drove  me  least, 
Bid  me  seek  the  East,  the  East. 
There,  they  say,  I'll  refuge  find, 
There,  they  say,  the  skies  are  kind, 
3 


30  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

There  I'll  rest  my  weary  head, 
Plough  my  field,  and  eat  my  bread. 
There  I'll  rest  and  there  I'll  toil, 
Sow  the  seed,  and  love  the  soil ; 
Where  my  fathers  lived  and  died, 
There  my  new  life  should  be  tried. 
But  my  elder  brothers  say : 
All  the  world  I  would  betray ! 
Go  to  East — oh,  what  a  whim ! 
All  the  earth  I  would  bedim. 
And  they  urge  me,  and  they  say : 
"  Stay  away !  " 

Brother  dear,  oh,  dost  thou  know- 

Where  to  go  ? 


YOU  COMFORT  ME  31 


V^OU  comfort  me  that  I  am  living, 

While  mighty  nations  were  effaced ; 
But  tell  me,  dearest,  which  is  nobler, 
A  freeman's  death  or  life  disgraced? 

Two  brothers  lived ;  one  killed  the  other ; 

Rest  in  the  grave  found  he  who  died ; 
But  I,  like  Cain,  am  doomed  to  wander, 

Abel's  repose  I  am  denied. 

"  Forever  live,"  I  hear  an  echo, 

"  Removed  from  earth,  remote  from  sky  ; 
And  strange  alike  to  man  and  angel, 

You  dare  not  live,  you  shall  not  die !  " 


32  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Spmsictan 

'"THE  hall  was  bright,  the  guests  were  gay, 

In  festal  garb  arrayed ; 
Unheeded  by  the  piano  sat 
A  gloomy,  dark-eyed  maid. 

It  seemed  as  though  the  piano  smiled, 
With  dazzling  milk-white  teeth  ; 

The  maiden  touched  it,  and  it  wept 
Her  fingers  swift  beneath. 

And  straight  a  sudden  thrill  of  grief 
Passed  through  the  feasting  throng, 

And  old  and  young  were  bowed  before 
The  pathos  of  her  song. 

I  knew  the  player,  knew  her  race, 

Her  birthplace  and  belief  ; 
I  knew  the  music  of  her  soul, 

Her  wordless  song  of  grief — 


A  GHETTO  MUSICIAN  33 

The  soul  that  treasured  in  its  depths 

The  drama  of  a  race ; 
The  song  a  distant  ghetto  nursed, 

Her  dismal  native  place. 

Of  vanished  hopes,  of  buried  dreams, 

Complained1  her  sad,  sweet  song ; 
What  brought — I  mused — this  child  of  grief 

To  this  gay,  feasting  throng  ? 

No  answer  came ;  a  spellbound  crowd 

Stood  motionless  around ; 
Eyes  dimmed  with  tears,  hearts  beating  fast, 

Still  sought  each  magic  sound. 


34  SONGS   OF  A    WANDERER 


(After  Frug) 

'"pHE  silver  moon  shines,  and  the  diamond  stars 
twinkle, 

Night  hovers  o'er  land  and  o'er  main ; 
The  Book  of  Creation  before  me  lies  open — 

I  read  it  again  and  again. 

I  read  and  re-read  the  old,  marvelous  stories — 

A  voice  I  hear  calling  to  me : 
"  My  people  shall  be  as  the  stars  in  the  heaven, 

As  sand  on  the  shore  of  the  sea !  " 

O  heavenly  Father,  not  one  of  Thy  sayings 

Has  ever  proved  vain  or  untrue : 
Thy  will  on  the  earth,  as  Thy  will  in  the  heaven, 

Must  come  when  its  season  is  due. 


SAND  AND  STARS  35 

And  half  of  Thy  promise  indeed  is  accomplished : 

Thy  people  became  as  the  sand — 
As  gloomy  and  trampled,  as  humble  and  wind- 
tossed, 

As  scattered  on  sea  and  on  land. 

Yea,  half  of  Thy  promise  has  long  been  accom 
plished — 

Thy  people  is  trodden  as  sod ; 
But  what  of  the  beauteous,  the  lofty,  the  shining, 

The  heavenly  stars,  O  my  God  ? 


36  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


C  LEEP,  my  boy,  the  night  is  treading 

On  its  tiptoes  still : 

Gold  the  twinkling  stars  are  shedding 
Over  vale  and  hill. 

Golden  stars  the  sky  be  jewel, 

And  they  spark  and  glow ; 
Sleep  before  you  know  how  cruel 

Is  our  life  below. 

Sleep,  my  boy,  the  moon  is  swimming 

In  a  silver  stream ; 
Dozing  lakes  with  crystal  brimming 

Dream  a  golden  dream. 

Gold  and  silver  we  may  borrow 

From  the  skies  o'erhead  ; 
Care  awakens  with  the  morrow, 

Care  for  daily  bread. 


A  GHETTO  CRADLE-SONG  37 

Sleep,  my  boy,  the  birds  are  trilling 

From  each  tree  and  nest : 
"  Night  is  sacred,  night  is  filling 

Wood  and  vale  with  rest." 

Leaf  and  blade  by  breezes  shaken 

Softly  whisper  bliss ; 
Sleep,  my  boy,  before  you  waken 

Calm  on  earth  to  miss. 

Sleep,  my  boy,  and  dream  of  heaven, 

Dream  of  joy  and  mirth ; 
Heaven's  dreams  to  us  are  given 

To  forget  the  earth. 

Sleep,  my  boy,  for  clouds  may  gather 

Heaven's  charm  to  mar; 
Up  in  heaven  is  your  father 

Shining  as  a  star. 


33  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Sleep,  my  boy,  the  angels  mind  you 

In  your  tiny  bed ; 
Earth  is  wide,  but  who  will  find  you 

Room  to  rest  your  head? 

Sleep,  the  night  is  softly  treading, 
Kindling  lakes  and  streams  ; 

Gold  the  twinkling  stars  are  shedding, 
Gold — in  dreams,  in  dreams. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW  39 


Cfje 

f~^  OME  hail,  and  gale,  and  thunder- 

v^> 

My  goal  I  shall  pursue ; 

My  path  I  tread  asunder — 
The  world's  reproach  and  wonder — 
The  ever-wandering  Jew. 

For  false  is  that  vile  story 

That  I  conspire  to  die : 
My  goal  is  life  and  glory, 
My  aim  since  ages  hoary 

To  life  from  death  to  fly. 

And  though  my  saviour  dally 

To  end  my  grief  and  woe, 
Through  desert,  hill,  and  valley, 
Through  sordid  ghetto  alley, 
On,  ever  on,  I  go. 


40  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

For  like  a  searching  ranger 

I  learned  the  earth  to  roam ; 
I  heed  no  ill,  no  danger, 
Am  everywhere  a  stranger, 
Yet  everywhere  at  home. 

Though  nations  may  abhor  me, 
Though  hate  and  scorn  I  find, 
A  guiding  star  shines  o'er  me, 
A  glorious  goal  before  me, 
A  martyr's  path  behind. 

The  scoffer's  scorn  and  laughter 

Shall  never  bar  my  way ; 
My  faith,  my  strongest  rafter, 
Foretells  a  golden  "  after," 
A  great  and  glorious  day. 

No  night  my  soul  can  frighten, 
No  cloud-beshrouded  skies ; 


THE  WANDERING  JEW  41 

My  robe  of  faith  I  tighten, 
And  wait  till  day  shall  brighten, 
The  sun  of  love  shall  rise. 

May  king  or  kingdom-monger 

Believe  in  might  and  sword, 
But  I,  with  faith  yet  stronger, 
Shall  trust,  though  suffer  longer, 

In  God's  eternal  word. 

With  faith,  my  wealth  and  chattel, 

I  fear  no  warrior's  fate  ; 
Around  the  swords  may  rattle, 
But  I  shall  leave  the  battle 

Triumphant,  free,  and  great. 

Of  heroes  old  a  scion, 

With  God  in  field  I  camp ; 
He  wakens  Judah's  lion, 
To  light  once  more  in  Zion 

A  world-illuming  lamp. 


42  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


(Eternal 

T  SRAEL,  my  people, 

God's  greatest  riddle, 
Will  thy  solution 
Ever  be  told  ? 

Fought — never  conquered, 
Bent — never  broken, 
Mortal — immortal, 

Youthful,  though  old. 

Egypt  enslaved  thee, 
Babylon  crushed  thee, 
Rome  led  thee  captive, 
Homeless  thy  head. 

Where  are  those  nations 
Mighty  and  fearsome  ? 
Thou  hast  survived  them, 
They  are  long  dead. 


THE  ETERNAL  RIDDLE  43 

Nations  keep  coming, 
Nations  keep  going, 
Passing  like  shadows, 
Wiped  off  the  earth. 

Thou  an  eternal 
Witness  remainest, 
Watching  their  burial, 

Watching  their  birth. 

Pray,  who  revealed  thee 
Heaven's  great  secret : 
Death  and  destruction 
Thus  to  defy? 

Suffering  torture, 
Stake,  inquisition — 
Prithee,  who  taught  thee 
Never  to  die? 


44  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Ay,  and  who  gave  thee 
Faith,  deep  as  ocean, 
Strong  as  the  rock-hills, 
Fierce  as  the  sun  ? 

Hated  and  hunted, 
Ever  thou  wand'rest, 
Bearing  a  message: 
God  is  but  one ! 

Pray,  has  thy  saga 
Likewise  an  ending, 
As  its  beginning 
Glorious  of  old? 

Israel,  my  people, 
God's  greatest  riddle, 
Will  thy  solution 
Ever  be  told  ? 


ISAIAH'S  VISION  45 


;  Vision 

HpHREE  thousand  years  ago, 

The  Hebrew  prophet's  soul 
Through  countless  ages  saw 
The  far-off  human  goal. 

When  life  was  base  and  vile, 

And  chained  was  human  thought, 

He  to  a  heathen  world 
A  godly  message  brought. 

"  A  time  will  come  when  man," 
Proclaimed  the  noble  seer, 

"  To  plough  shall  turn  his  sword, 
To  pruning-hook  his  spear, 

His  field  of  fire  and  blood, 
To  field  of  golden  corn ; 
In  human  heart  new  love, 

New  glory  shall  be  born. 
4 


46  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

All  nations  unto  peace 

Shall  give  their  mind  and  heart, 
And  lift  no  sword,  nor  learn 

The  warrior's  godless  art." 

Three  thousand  years  have  passed ; 

And  though  the  prophet's  dream 
As  yet  is  unattained, 

And  force  still  reigns  supreme, 

The  prophet's  people  prove 
To  men  the  human  goal : 

That  mightier  than  the  sword 
Is  heart,  and  mind,  and  soul ; 

That  mightier  than  the  sword 
Is  God's  eternal  word  ; 

The  prophet's  people  live 
In  spite  of  fire  and  sword. 


THE  LOTUS  PLANT  47 


Cfje  Lotus  plant 

/^\F  the  lotus  plant  a  story 

Comes  to  us  from  ancient  time ; 
Those  who  tasted  of  its  flower 
Soon  forgot  their  native  clime. 

In  the  East  there  is  a  country, 
Where  my  people's  star  once  shone ; 

Since  it  set  in  utter  blackness, 
Centuries  have  come  and  gone ; 

But  I  cannot  yet  forget  it, 

Though  I  roam  the  earth  around, 
For  that  precious  lotus  flower 

I  have  nowhere,  nowhere  found ; 

And  my  people's  ancient  country 
Ever  looms  before  my  eyes, 

With  its  hills  and  plains  and  gardens, 
With  its  deep  and  sapphire  skies ; 


48  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

With  its  lily-spangled  valleys, 
Groves  of  cedar,  palm,  and  vine, 

With  its  sacred  sites,  where  erstwhile 
Trod  the  fathers  of  our  line. 

Ev'ry  sunbeam,  bird,  or  flower 
To  my  vision  ever  brings 

Hills  and  valleys  that  have  cradled 
Heroes,  prophets,  bards,  and  kings. 

But  a  lorn,  sequestered  stranger, 
Lo,  I  wander  through  the  West, 

Ever  dreaming,  ever  longing, 
Never  finding  peace  or  rest. 

Of  my  kindred  I  make  question, 
While  from  land  to  land  I  roam: 

"  You  that  tasted  of  the  lotus, 
And  in  exile  made  your  home, 


THE  LOTUS  PLANT  49 

Can  you  tell  me,  happy  people, 

Can  you  tell  me  in  what  part 
Grows  that  blessed  magic  flower 

That  shall  heal  my  pining  heart  ?  " 

But  they  gaze  at  me  in  wonder, 
Shake  their  heads  and  turn  away ; 

And  they  mock  me  as  a  dreamer, 
And  I  plod  my  lonely  way. 

In  what  Gilead  their  balm  grew 
They  keep  hidden  from  my  quest ; 

So  I  pine,  pine  for  my  homeland, 
With  no  plant  to  give  me  rest. 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Co  tfte 

'"PHE  skylarks  sing  to  me 

A  song  of  mirth  and  glee, 
I  feel  their  airy  gladness, 
They  soar  so  high  and  free. 

O  singers  in  the  sky, 
If  but  to  you  could  I 

Pour  out  my  inner  sadness, 
would  not  sing,  but  cry. 


MY  PEOPLE'S  WOES  51 

People'*  MJoes; 

T  F  my  voice  in  singing  trembles, 
If  my  song  a  sigh  resembles, 
Far  too  sad  appears, 
Do  not,  friend,  with  blame  approach  me, 
Do  not,  friend,  in  haste  reproach  me, 
When  I  sing  through  tears. 

For  my  song  its  sadness  borrows 
From  my  people's  woes  and  sorrows, 

Boundless  as  the  sea; 
Early  I  became  acquainted 
With  a  life  that  fate  had  painted 

All  too  black  for  me. 

Friend,  to  witness  I  was  fated 
How  its  triumph  celebrated 

Darkness  over  light ; 

How  man's  greed,  and  lust,  and  blindness, 
Scoffed  at  virtue,  grace,  and  kindness, 

Crushing  right  by  might. 


S2  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Friend,  I  saw  that  people  driven 
That  to  mankind  once  had  given 

Truth  and  light  on  earth ; 
Saw  it  hunted,  shamed,  and  banished, 
Saw  its  faith  in  mankind  vanished 

'Mid  a  mob's  wild  mirth. 

Friend,  Gehenna's  blaze  and  fuel 
I  beheld,  when  mad  and  cruel 

Baal  his  victims  claimed : 
Maidens  shamed  and  broken-hearted, 
Mothers  from  their  children  parted, 

Infants  rent  and  maimed. 

And  the  curses  that  were  uttered, 
And  the  prayers  that  were  muttered 

To  avert  the  wrong, 

Sobs,  and  groans,  and  sighs  heaved  vainly, 
Now  perforce  re-echo  plainly 

In  my  dismal  song. 


MY  PEOPLE'S  WOES  53 

And  if  thus  my  voice  is  trembling, 
And  my  song,  a  sigh  resembling, 

Like  a  tear-stream  flows, 
Dearest  friend,  you  must  forgive  me : 
Tis  not  I  that  cry,  believe  me — 

'Tis  my  people's  woes. 


54  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


I^our 

COR  the  land  of  Red  Tsars  and  Black  Hundreds, 

Where  the  far-off  Siberian  plains 
Hide  the  graves  of  the  martyrs  for  justice, 
Telling  tales  of  queen  Freedom  in  chains ; 

For  the  land  of  Red  Tsars  and  Black  Hundreds, 

For  the  "  holy  "  unholiest  clime, 
Where  the  traffic  in  vice  is  rewarded, 

And  belief  in  one  God  is  a  crime ; 

For  the  land  of  Red  Tsars  and  Black  Hundreds, 
Where  the  knife  and  the  knout  are  untamed, 

Where  my  brothers  are  ages-long  tortured, 
And  my  sisters  are  branded  and  shamed ; 

For  the  land  of  Red  Tsars  and  Black  Hundreds, 

An  echo  approaches  my  ears, 
Proclaiming  the  hour  of  God's  vengeance 

For  our  innocent  blood  and  our  tears ! 


TO  ENGLAND  55 


Co 

HTHOU  art  not  my  stepmother,  England, 

My  sister  of  mercy  thou  art, 
Who  healed  with  a  balsam  of  freedom 
The  sore  of  a  wanderer's  heart. 

I  had  not  a  motherland,  England ; 

The  land  that  had  given  me  birth 
Denied  to  my  sorely-tried  people 

A  haven  of  rest  on  God's  earth. 

In  childhood  I  learned  to  love  thee, 
Thy  name  was  a  legend  to  me ; 

I  dreamt  of  a  distant  great  island, 

Where  men  may  be  strong,  yet  be  free. 

And  I,  who  the  clatter  of  fetters 

Have  heard  in  my  childhood  and  youth, 

Do  bless  thee  for  giving  me  refuge 
And  faith  in  the  triumph  of  truth. 


56  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Thou  are  not  my  stepmother,  England, 
My  sister  of  mercy  thou  art ; 

For  thee  in  the  hour  of  thy  trial 
A  brotherly  love  fills  my  heart. 


THE  LAST  57 


Cf)e 

(After  the  Hebrew) 

*~pHIS  the  key  of  Thy  Temple's  gates 

Into  my  hands  Thou  gavest,  saying : 
"  I  make  thee  watchman  o'er  my  House, 
A  watchman,  and  a  master  too  ; 
And  thou  shalt  watch  my  holy  House, 
And  open  wide  its  gates 
To  those  who  knock  at  them, 
With  yearning  heart." 
And  I — I  faithfully  kept  watch, 
And  day  and  night  did  wait 
For  parched  men  to  come 
And  drink  the  water  of  Thy  blessed  spring. 
The  key  with  rust  is  covered  in  my  hand. 
I  heard  a  murmur  and  a  noise  around, 
But  none  inquired  for  the  House  of  God. 


58  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Alone  Thy  gates  I  opened, 

Alone  I  stood  and  prayed, 

And  to  myself  I  said : 

Tis  time  to  close. 

And,  growing  old,  and  grey,  and  frail, 

I  breathed  my  last  prayer, 

And  in  the  dusty  curtain  of  the  ark 

I  lapped  my  head  and  wept  aloud, 

For  great  was  my  disgrace. 

And  when  Thy  House,  O  God,  I  left, 

I  saw  the  last  dark  shadows  creep 

And  follow  in  my  steps. 


THE  STRANGER  IN  LONDON  59 


CJje  Stranger  in  LonDon 

J_J  IS  forehead  is  wrinkled, 
His  eyes,  sad  and  deep, 
Those  eyes  that  tell  mutely 
How  often  they  weep ; 

And  tall  is  his  stature, 
And  pale  is  his  face ; 

I  know  without  asking 
His  faith  and  his  race. 

He  passes  my  window, — 
His  voice  I  know  well — • 

Sweet  oranges,  apples 
He  offers  to  sell. 

The  urchins  torment  him, 

When  he  is  alone, 
At  times  with  their  mocking, 

At  times  with  a  stone. 


60  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

He  eyes  them  in  silence ; 

And  as  they  disperse, 
I  see  his  lips  mutter — 

A  prayer,  or  a  curse. 

One  day  I  endeavored 
His  gloom  to  dispel, 

I  cheered  him,  and  begged  him 
His  life-tale  to  tell. 

His  sad  tale  he  told  me 
In  words  all  too  few, 

The  tale  of  a  martyr, 
The  tale  of  a  Jew. 

His  stepmother  country 
Deprived  him  of  home, 

And  made  him  a  vagrant, 
The  wide  world  to  roam. 


THE  STRANGER  IN  LONDON  61 

And  helpless,  and  friendless, 
And  speechless,  and  weak, 

He  came  to  this  island 
A  refuge  to  seek. 

In  solitude  living, 

Uncared  for,  unknown, 
He  prays  that  the  urchins 

May  leave  him  alone. 


62  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


C&e 

OU  bid  me  to  bury  my  sorrows, 

And  cease  o'er  my  burdens  to  rave ; 
But  where  shall  I  find  on  this  planet 
As  vast  as  my  sorrows  a  grave  ? 


THE  STRANGER  63 


Cfte  %>tranget 

,  child,  your  wicket, 
Let  me  in,  I  pray ; 
Tired  am  I  from  wand'ring, 
Long  is  still  my  way. 

What  my  name  is,  ask  you  ? 

Why  reveal  my  shame  ? 
On  my  long,  long  journey 

I  forgot  my  name. 

Wonder  you  I  come  by 

This  unbeaten  track  ? 
Storm,  by  chance,  has  brought  me, 

Storm  will  take  me  back. 

And  the  land  I  come  from? 

O,  in  ev'ry  part 
You  will  find  the  traces 

Of  my  wounded  heart. 


64  SONGS   OF  A    WANDERER 

Why  without  a  torchlight 
In  a  night  so  dark  ? 

Tempests  in  the  desert 

Quenched  it,  spark  by  spark. 

Have  I  any  friends  here  ? 

Many  a  one  and  none  ; 
None,  when  I  am  with  them, 

Many,  when  I'm  gone. 

And  the  land  I  go  to  ? 

That  would  mean  a  goal ; 
There's  no  land  nor  people 

Stays  my  restless  soul. 

Everywhere  a  native, 
Everywhere  a  guest ; 

All  I  pray  and  crave  for 
Is  a  moment's  rest. 


D AV ID'S  HARP  65 


Datu'D'0  Ijmrp 

(Dedicated  to  my  dear  friend  Dr.  Charles  Weitzmann) 

A  harp  hung  above  David's  bed,  and  every  midnight 
a  north  wind  breathed  upon  it,  and  its  strings  played  of 
themselves. 

— Tractate  Berakot. 

A  S  the  silver  moon,  while  climbing 

In  a  summer  night  the  crystal 
Walls  of  heaven  through  the  cloudland, 
Casts  its  mellow,  dreamy  moonbeams 
On  the  paths  and  roads  deserted, 
On  the  temples  and  the  castles, 
Dreaming  like  enchanted  giants 
By  the  watching  ghost-like  shadows ; 
Thus  in  memory  arising 
Sometimes  through  life's  sombre  cloudland 
Images  long,  long  forgotten, 
Charming  sagas,  ancient  legends, 
Stories  quaint  I  heard  in  childhood 
From  my  Rabbi  in  my  Cheder, 


66  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Cast  their  tender  light,  illuming 
The  deserted,  gloomy  chambers 
Of  my  grief-encompassed  heart. 

In  the  chamber  of  king  David, 
Of  Jerusalem's  great  ruler, 
Hangs  an  old,  a  golden  harp. 
Night  by  night,  at  the  hour  of  midnight, 
When  all  mortals  rest  in  slumber, 
And  all  angels  hymns  are  chanting, 
Blows  a  north  breeze,  softly  touching 
With  its  breath  the  strings  the  golden, 
And  the  harp,  as  though  by  magic, 
Of  itself  begins  to  play. 
Soon  the  king  those  sounds  awaken ; 
Swiftly  from  his  couch  he  rises, 
Through  the  night,  until  the  sunrise, 
Chants  his  wondrous  psalms  and  hymns. 
And  those  songs  possess  a  power, 
A  great,  hidden,  sacred  power, 
Which  reverberates  their  echo 


DAVID'S  HARP  67 


In  each  human  heart  and  soul, 
And  they  pierce  the  hearts  of  mortals, 
Drawing  from  the  depths  of  feeling 
All  the  pearls  and  all  the  corals 
Of  emotion  and  of  thought. 

Midnight  peals.    Unearthly  music 

Fills  the  chamber  of  king  David, 

Melodies  in  which  the  singer 

Hears  the  voice  of  God  and  nature, 

Sometimes  speaking  through  the  breezes, 

Sometimes  through  the  howling  tempest ; 

Sometimes  like  a  streamlet  flowing, 

Sometimes  raging  like  the  sea. 

Oft  a  mighty  voice  arises, 

Like  a  fiery  thunder  rolling 

O'er  the  wide  Arabian  desert ; 

Like  the  wild  Simoon,  unfettered, 

Yelling  in  its  angry  effort 

To  uproot  the  hoary  cedars 

Of  king  Lebanon  the  snow-crowned. 


68  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Like  the  Red  Sea's  heaving  bosom, 

Tossed  and  tumbled  by  the  tempest, 

Vale-like  sinking,  mount-like  rising, 

As  it  foams,  and  yawns,  and  threatens 

To  engulf  the  rocks  above  it. 

Then  the  poet's  psalms  re-echo 

Voices  angry  as  the  tempest : 

"  He  layeth  the  beams  of  His  chambers 

In  the  waters, 

He  walketh  upon  the  wings 

Of  the  wind ; 

At  the  voice  of  Thy  thunder  they  haste  away ; 

They  go  up  like  mountains, 

They  go  down  like  valleys." 

Yea,  the  roaring  waves  and  thunder 

Then  his  songs  reverberate. 

Oft  a  melody  starts  flowing, 
Soft  and  calm  like  the  Shiloah, 
Gently  rolling  lucent  billows 
To  the  velvet  shore,  caressing, 


DAVID'S  HARP  69 


Wooing  tenderly  the  willows ; 

Like  the  ripple  of  the  far-off 

Murmuring  fountains  of  En-gedi ; 

Like  the  whisper  of  the  young  ears 

In  the  cornfields  of  Beth-lehem, 

When  the  spring  breeze  lulls  to  rest. 

Then  the  singer's  strain  re-echoes 

Nature's  voices  sweet  and  tender : 

"  He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures, 

He  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters." 

And  the  music  of  the  harp-strings 

And  the  words,  sublime  and  charming, 

Fuse  into  one  wondrous  hymn. 

Oft  a  melody  upsurges 

Full  of  immemorial  sorrow, 

Like  the  speechless  supplication 

Of  a  lone,  forsaken  soul ; 

Of  a  soul  that  gropes  in  darkness, 

Seeing  no  escape,  no  outlet 

From  its  melancholy  fate ; 


70  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Like  the  sob  of  stricken  parents, 
Watching  hopelessly  the  death-bed 
Of  their  only  darling  child. 
Then  the  singer,  gravely,  sadly, 
Sings  his  melancholy  song : 
"  The  pains  of  death  encompass  me, 
The  woes  of  Sheol  got  hold  upon  me, 
I  found  but  grief  and  woe." 
And  the  echo  of  his  strain  is 
Through  the  night  a  thrill  of  grief. 

Oft  a  melody  awakens, 
Flowing  like  a  sacred  prayer, 
Like  a  love  dream  first  unfolding 
In  the  pure  heart  of  a  maiden, 
Raising  feelings  and  emotions, 
Yearnings,  hopes  till  then  unknown; 
Like  a  quaint,  mysterious  vision, 
Woven  in  a  poet's  fancy, 
Carrying  him,  as  though  by  magic, 


D AV ID'S  HARP  71 


On  the  wings  of  inspiration, 
Into  spheres  from  mortals  hidden, 
Into  spheres  of  boundless  beauty, 
To  a  space  of  light  and  rapture, 
Charming  vistas,  wondrous  views. 
There  the  singer  hears  a  chorus 
Of  angelic  hosts  in  heaven, 
Chanting,  glorifying,  praising 
The  Creator  of  the  worlds ; 
And  the  singer  joins  the  chorus, 
To  the  sound  of  magic  harp-strings : 
"  Praise  Him,  praise  Him,  all  ye  angels, 
Praise  Him,  all  ye  hosts  of  light, 
Praise  Him,  heavens  of  the  heavens, 
Every  soul  shall  praise  the  Lord." 

Nightly  thus  the  harp  is  playing, 
Nightly  thus  the  king  is  singing 
Songs  of  rest  and  songs  of  tempest, 
Of  life's  joys,  and  of  life's  burdens, 
Man's  despair,  his  hopes  and  longings, 


72  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Songs  of  nature  and  of  God — 

All  the  deepest  heart  emotions, 

All  most  sacred  aspirations 

Are  re-echoed  in  his  songs. 

Thus  the  twins  by  song  begotten — 

Speech  of  heart  and  sound  of  heaven — 

Did  present  the  world  and  mankind 

With  the  Psalter,  Book  of  Life ; 

And  the  echo  of  that  life  book 

Ever  hovers  in  the  world-space 

Over  hill,  and  dell,  and  desert ; 

In  the  prince's  gorgeous  palace, 

In  the  pauper's  gloomy  cottage, 

Every  human  heart  it  touches. 

It  entrances  and  inspires, 

Fills  with  thoughts  and  yearnings  great. 

Ages  come  and  go.    Like  actors 

On  the  stage  appearing,  changing, 

On  the  earth — the  stage  of  mankind — 

Countries,  nations  ever  change. 


DAYID'S  HARP  73 


Ages  come  and  go ;  but  one  thing, 
One,  alas !  remains  forever — 
Strife  and  struggle  unabated, 
'Twixt  the  races,  creeds,  and  nations. 
Men  have  never  yet  discovered 
How  between  them  (fateful  secret!) 
Earth  and  heaven  should  be  shared  .  .  . 
Yet  amid  the  wild  confusion, 
And  the  chaos  of  man's  conflicts, 
When  God's  reason  sobers  mankind 
Of  its  war  intoxication, 
And  a  momentary  truce  is 
On  the  battlefield  proclaimed — 
Then  in  synagogues,  cathedrals, 
And  in  churches,  and  in  cloisters, 
And  wherever  man,  inspired, 
Lifts  his  troubled  soul  in  prayer, 
Magic  sounds  ascend  the  heavens, 
Songs  that  stream  from  sacred  fountains 
In  the  human  soul  deep  hidden, 


74  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

And  they  ease  life's  heavy  burdens, 
Bringing  comfort,  help,  and  peace. 
Listen  to  those  words  and  music, 
Whosoever,  friend,  you  may  be, 
You  will  recognize  these  songs. 
Still  king  David's  harp  is  chiming, 
Still  its  strings  remain  unbroken, 
Still  unsilenced  are  its  echoes, 
While  the  ages  come  and  go  ... 
Everlasting  and  eternal 
It  is,  like  man's  living  spirit, 
Like  the  firmament  above  us, 
Like  the  people  of  the  King. 

Israel,  glorious  are  thy  legends, 
And  they  are  of  thee  a  portion ; 
For  thy  legends  still  are  living, 
And  thy  life — a  legend  still. 


TWO  ANGELS  75 


Ctoo  angels 

CVERY  Friday,  when  the  west 
Lures  the  golden  sun  to  rest 
And  the  gloomy  earth  to  cheer, 
Diamond  stars  in  sky  appear ; 
When  queen  Sabbath  comes  on  earth, 
Bringing  heaven's  joy  and  mirth, 
Worry,  toil,  and  gloom  to  end , 
Angels  two  from  sky  descend — 
Angels  two,  one  kind  and  bright, 
But  the  other,  dark  as  night. 
And  around  the  world  they  soar, 
Halting  at  each  Jewish  door. 
When  their  eyes  lit  candles  meet, 
When  bright  faces  Sabbath  greet, 
When  sweet  songs  and  anthems  fair 
Show  that  peace  hath  banished  care, 


76  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Anger,  and  the  daily  grind, 
Then  the  angel  mild  and  kind 
Utters  blessings :  "  Like  to-night 
Ever  shall  your  life  be  bright ; 
Never,  never,  shall  you  miss 
Soul's  contentment,  deepest  bliss." 
And  his  mate,  with  gloomy  eyes, 
"  Amen  "  to  his  words  replies. 
But  when  they  a  household  see 
Void  of  joy,  of  Sabbath  glee, 
Not  a  candle,  not  a  spark, 
Room  and  faces  sad  and  dark, 
Work  and  strife  and  Satan's  wiles, 
Then  the  evil  angel  smiles, 
And  he  hastes  to  speak  his  curse : 
"  Ever  go  from  bad  to  worse, 
Every  day  and  all  life  through 
Peace  shall  be  denied  to  you." 
And  his  mate,  with  tearful  eyes, 
"  Amen  "  says,  and  sadly  cries. 


MESSIAH  77 


(A  talmudic  legend) 

A  ND  Daniel  begged  the  angel  of  the  Lord : 
"  O  tell  me,  pray,  of  that  salvation  true 
Jehovah  will  unto  His  people  bring, 
So  that  my  soul  may  rest  and  tranquil  be." 
And  thus  the  angel  spoke,  and  made  reply : 
"  On  that  great  day  Messiah,  Judah's  king, 
Shall  lift  his  flag  upon  the  Zion  Hill, 
On  that  great  day  the  Temple  will  be  built, 
By  Judah's  foe  no  more  to  be  destroyed. 
That  day  Messiah,  God's  anointed  king, 
With  him  Elijah,  Judah's  prophet  true, 
The  holy  Mount  of  Olives  shall  ascend, 
And  king  to  prophet  thus  will  give  command : 
'  Arise,  O  Tishbite,  sound  thy  clarion  high ! ' 
And  as  the  clarion  peals  shall  wake  the  earth, 
A  light  more  brilliant  and  more  dazzling  still 

6 


78  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Than  when  Jehovah  first  created  light 

Shall  shine,  and  clothe  the  earth  from  end  to  end. 

That  light  shall  heal  and  cheer  the   sick   and 

grieved ; 
And  when  once  more  the  trumpet's  peals  are 

heard, 

The  dead  shall  wake,  and,  rising  from  their  tombs, 
Shake  off  the  clods  that  kept  them  cold  and  dumb. 
And  friend  shall  cheer  and  glad  the  heart  of 

friend, 

And  mother  shall  embrace  her  child  with  joy, 
And  from  the  east  and  west,  and  north  and  south, 
They,  swiftly  come  as  on  an  eagle's  wings, 
Shall  flock,  and  to  Messiah  wend  their  way. 
And  thus  the  joyous  message  shall  be  spread : 
'  The  day  has  come  the  Lord  designed  of  yore ; 
Let  all  rejoice,  let  all  be  glad  this  day.' 
And  when  again  the  trumpet's  sound  is  heard, 
The  Lord,  surrounded  by  His  angel  troops, 
In  light  and  glory  shall  appear  on  earth. 


MESSIAH  79 

And    when    once   more    the    prophet's    trumpet 

sounds, 

The  hills  and  mounts  shall  sink,  the  valleys  rise ; 
And  where  the  Tabor  once  and  Carmel  Hill, 
And  where  the  Olive  Mount  and  Hermon  stood, 
A  flowery  plain  shall  far  and  wide  extend. 
And  then  the  Lord  His  angels  will  command, 
To  raise  once  more  the  Temple's  golden  gates 
The  earth  kept  buried  in  its  entrails  vast, 
Since  Judah's  foe  the  holy  fane  destroyed." 


8o  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Cfje  Dean 

(Ballad) 

C  ACH  midnight,  each  midnight  they  march  out 

in  crowds, 
With    bundles    of    faggots    concealed    in    their 

shrouds, 
Their  eyes  like  quenched  embers,  their  faces  like 

clouds — 

They  march  to  Madrid,  and  they  stay ; 
And  where  Torquemado's  cathedral  once  stood, 
The  spot  that  is  stained  with  their  ashes  and  blood, 
They  open  their  shrouds,  and  drop  bundles  of 

wood, 
And  kindle  an  auto-da-fe. 

A  gray-bearded  sage  in  a  turban  and  shawl, 
Of  princely  demeanor,  and  stately,  and  tall, 
Then  beckons  for  silence,  and  speaks  to  them  all 
In  tones  that  make  tremble  the  sod : 


THE  DEAD  ASSEMBLY  81 

"  This  flame  shall  bear  witness  to  aged  and  youth, 
That  men  who  taught  mankind  God's  mercy  and 

truth 

Were  cast  into  flames  for  proclaiming  His  truth, 
And  burnt  for  the  name  of  their  God. 

And  night  after  night  shall  be  kindled  this  flame, 
And  glare  on  the  land  as  a  brand-mark  of  shame. 
Forever  the  land  of  inquisitors'  fame 

To  men  as  a  curse  shall  go  down ; 
Forever  the  blood  of  the  martyrs  shall  stain 
The  highways   and  byways   and  pavements  of 

Spain : 
We  swear  that  our  children  shall  never  again 

Return  to  the  blood-spotted  town." 

Then  each  of  the  martyrs  holds  down  his  right 

hand, 

And  lifts  from  the  fire-heap  a  smouldering  brand, 
And  mutters  an  oath  and  a  curse  on  the  land, 
And  slowly  moves  backward  away. 


82  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Thrice  "  Amen "  calls  out  the  retreating  dead 

crowd, 

Thrice  "  Amen  "  re-echo  the  mountains  aloud, 
And  over  Madrid  spreads  a  thickening  cloud, 
And  stays  till  the  dawn  of  the  day. 


SATAN  AND  HAM  AN  83 


an  ft  Daman 

(After  the  Talmud) 

"VAT"  HEN  the  Persian  Haman 

Thrilled  and  throbbed  with  joy, 
At  the  gladsome  prospect 
Israel  to  destroy ; 

Satan,  likewise  joyful, 

Brought  to  God  the  news, 
Bade  Him  sign  the  verdict 

To  destroy  the  Jews. 

The  Almighty  answered : 

"  Thy  request  is  good, 
But  my  seal,  ere  signing, 

Must  be  dipped  in  blood. 


84  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Bring  some  human  blood,  then, 
Shed  by  Jewish  hands." 

Forthwith  sped  old  Satan 
Over  seas  and  lands, 

Searching  every  highway, 
Every  cave  and  wood ; 

But,  alas,  he  could  not 
Find  such  human  blood. 

Then,  to  God  returning, 
He  brought  back  the  tale: 

"  Cowards  are  Thy  people, 
And  of  heart  too  frail." 


THE  AGGADA  85 


Cfje 

XA/'HENE'ER  with  woes 
My  heart  o'erflows, 

Yet  will  no  hope  surrender, 
From  pain  and  grief 
I  seek  relief 

In  tales  of  ancient  splendor. 


And  then  I  scan 
The  talisman 

Engraved  by  Israel's  sages, 
The  tales  of  old 
The  Rabbis  told 

In  far-off,  wondrous  ages. 


86  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

My  pain  is  stilled, 
My  heart  is  filled 

With  joyous,  deep  emotion ; 
I  sail  in  glee 
The  boundless  sea, 

The  great  talmudic  ocean. 

And  life  does  seem 
A  wondrous  dream, 

Through  paths  of  mystery  winding; 
How  I  rejoice 
To  hear  the  voice 

Of  childhood's  days  reminding! 

I  sail,  I  swim 

Through  streams  that  brim 

With  silver-gliding  waters. 
On  beach  and  shore 
I  meet  once  more 

Fair  Judah's  sons  and  daughters. 


THE  AGGADA  87 


And  ev'rywhere 
Resounds  the  air 

With  sweet  old  Zion's  ditties, 
And  far  and  wide 
On  ev'ry  side 

Arise  old  Judah's  cities. 

And  as  of  yore 
I  see  once  more 

The  land  of  milk  and  honey ; 
The  landscapes  quaint 
That  once  did  paint 

The  Rabbi  Bar-Bar-Choney. 

With  him  I  ride, 
Through  countries  wide, 

To  phantom  realms  and  peoples ; 
My  oarless  boat 
O'er  seas  does  float, 

I  climb  on  magic  steeples. 


88  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

On  elfin  wings 
I  visit  kings, 

And  rest  in  beauteous  Eden ; 
In  Ophir's  fields, 
Where  David's  shields 

And  treasures  rare  are  hidden. 

O  Talmud  great, 
Thou  dost  relate 

The  tale  of  silent  ages  ; 
But  canst  thou  tell 
Who  gave  such  spell 

To  thy  unfading  pages  ? 


THE  RABBI  AND  THE  PRINCESS  89 


Cf)e  Hafefci  ana  t&e  princess 

(From  the  Talmud) 

' '  D  ABB  I,"  said  a  heathen  princess, 

To  a  Hebrew  chief, 
"  You,  a  man  so  wise,  how  can  you 

Follow  your  belief, 
Since  your  God,  the  great  Jehovah, 

Acted  like  a  thief? 


For  He  cast  a  sleep  on  Adam, 
And,  without  his  leave, 

Took  a  rib  from  out  his  body, 
Made  the  woman  Eve. 

Rabbi,  in  such  wise  act  only 
Robbers,  I  believe." 


9o  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

"  Princess,"  said  the  Rabbi,  "  if  you 

Wish  to  judge  aright, 
Just  permit  me  now  to  tell  you 

What  occurred  one  night, 
When  a  man  my  chamber  entered, 

Hid  from  people's  sight. 

In  my  isolated  cottage, 

On  the  barren  wold, 
I  possessed  a  lamp  of  copper, 

Tarnished,  bent,  and  old. 
And  he  stole  it.    But  instead  he 

Left  a  lamp  of  gold. 

Tell  me,  was  this  man  a  robber, 
Can  he  thus  be  named  ?  " 

"  No !  he  was  your  benefactor !  " 
She,  surprised,  exclaimed ; 

Then,  the  Rabbi's  smile  beholding, 
Turned  and  blushed,  half-shamed. 


KINDLING  THE  SABBATH  LIGHT  91 


tf)e  §alrtatd  Ligftt 

CROM  memory's  spring  flows  a  vision  to-night : 
My  mother  is  kindling  and  blessing  the  light. 

The  light  of  queen  Sabbath,  the  heavenly  flame 
That  one  day  in  seven  quells  hunger  and  shame. 

A  stream  in  the  desert,  'mid  thistles  a  rose, 

Is  Sabbath  'mid  week-days,  the  queen  of  repose. 

She  comes  with  a  torch  to  expel  daily  gloom, 
And  kindles  the  soul  of  her  lover  and  groom. 

My  mother  is  praying,  and  screening  her  face, 
Too  bashful  to  gaze  at  the  Sabbath  light's  grace. 

She  murmurs  devoutly :  "  Almighty,  be  blessed 
For  sending  Thy  angel  of  joy  and  of  rest. 

And  may  as  the  candles  of  Sabbath  divine 

The  eyes  of  my  son  in  Thy  Law  ever  shine."  .  .  . 


92  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Of  childhood,  fair  childhood,  the  years  are  long 

fled: 
Youth's  candles  are  quenched,  and  my  mother  is 

dead. 

And  yet  ev'ry  Friday,  when  twilight  arrives, 
The  face  of  my  mother  within  me  revives ; 

A  prayer  on  her  lips :  "  O  Almighty,  be  blessed 
For  sending  us  Sabbath,  the  angel  of  rest." 

And  some  hidden  feeling  I  cannot  control 

A  Sabbath  light  kindles  deep,  deep  in  my  soul. 


THE  IMPRISONED  PRINCESS  93 


SmprisotteD  princess 


Under  foreign  skies  forgotten,- 
One  I  still  recall. 


On  an  island  stands  a  tower 
Barred  with  iron  gates  ; 

There  a  princess,  long  imprisoned, 
For  her  lover  waits, 

Gazing  from  her  prison  window 

Through  the  iron  bars, 
Day  by  day  the  sun  beseeching, 

Night  by  night,  the  stars : 
7 


94  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

"  Is  my  lover's  heart  still  faithful, 

Loving  as  before? 
Will  he  ever  come,  release  me, 

As  in  youth  he  swore? 

Come  in  knightly  shield  and  armor, 

Come  to  set  me  free, 
That  we  both  may  flee  together 

Far  o'er  land  and  sea ; 

Flee,  until  a  wondrous  island 

Will  our  sight  allure, 
Where  the  brooks  are  pure  as  crystal, 

And  man's  heart  as  pure ; 

In  the  lap  of  mother  nature 

There  to  love  and  live, 
All  our  woes  forget  in  rapture, 

All  our  foes  forgive  ?  " 


THE  IMPRISONED  PRINCESS  95 

Mother,  I  that  tale  remember, 

Childhood's  saddest  tale ; 
And,  meseems,  I  know  the  princess, 

See  her  sad  and  pale, 

As  she  daily  at  the  casement 

Of  her  cell  appears  ; 
Feel  her  sorrows,  grief,  and  anguish, 

See  her  eyes  in  tears. 

And  myself  her  pain  and  anguish 

Often  I  share,  too ; 
And  I,  too,  believe  her  vision 

Will  one  day  come  true. 

Come  he  will,  her  true  redeemer, 

Break  her  prison  gate: 
But  I  fear,  I  fear,  O  mother, 

He  may  be  too  late ! 


g6  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


A  CRADLE-SONG  my  mother  sang, 
So  deep,  so  sweet,  so  sad  it  rang. 
Of  mother  1  am  long  bereft, 
But  why  is  still  her  sadness  left, 
To  live  in  every  song  of  mine, 
In  ev'ry  line? 

O  mother  dear, 

Where  did  you  hear 

That  air  that  taught  your  darling  lad 

A  song  so  sad  ? 

And  where  have  I  the  sadness  found  ? 
In  mother's  voice,  or  word,  or  sound, 
Or  in  her  melancholy  mood, 
Or  in  her  pearly  tear  that  stood 
In  her  eye,  trembling  ere  it  fell? — 

I  cannot  tell ! 


MY  MOTHER'S  SONG  97 

The  song  I  never  understood, 
And  strange  to  me  was  mother's  mood  ; 
The  words  I  have  forgotten  long, 
ic  voice  is  silent,  like  the  song. 


, 

ie  eye  is  closed;  the  tear  is  dry  ; 

The  sadness  cannot  die. 
And  in  my  happiest  moods  and  dreams 
I  ever  hear  that  song  meseems  ; 
And  when  I  muse  of  love  and  bliss, 

I  never  miss 
That  lullaby  of  sadness  deep  — 

And  I  must  weep. 


98  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


C&e  Dpittff  Poet 

(After  the  Yiddish) 

\A^HITE  the  robe,  and  white  the  "  sister," 

Bed  and  linen  likewise  white ; 
On  his  bed  lies  pale  the  singer, 
In  his  eyes  dies  out  the  light. 

White  the  face,  and  white  the  pillow, 

But  his  lips  and  eyes  are  dark ; 
By  his  bed  I  stand  in  anguish, 

See  the  last  expiring  spark. 

"  Comrade,  see,  I  bring  you  flowers, 

Tokens  of  the  world's  esteem  ; 
Tell  me,  comrade,  what  you  wish  for, 

And  of  what  it  is  you  dream." 


THE  DYING  POET  99 

But  he  looks,  with  eyes  imploring, 
Murmurs  something  hard  to  hear ; 

Smiling  gloomily  and  faintly, 
Beckons,  whispers  in  my  ear : 

"  All  is  over.  .  .  .    Drama  ended  .  .  . 

Far  too  early  came  the  end.  .  .  . 
Have  you,  brother,  yet  looked  over, 

My  new  poem  in  The  Friend? 

'  Life  and  Youth ' — you  must  have  read  it  ... 

There  two  syllables  are  wrong  .  .  . 
Tis  not  my  fault  .  .  .  Tis  a  misprint  .  .  . 

They  have  spoiled  that  charming  song.  .  .  . 

'  Life  and  Youth,'  my  latest  poem, 

Written  but  a  week  ago ; 
Just  two  syllables  are  missing, — 

Brother,  let  the  people  know.  .  .  . 

Tell  them,  pray,  it  is  an  error  .  .  . 
Just  an  error  ..."    "  Dearest  friend ! 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Your  last  wish  shall  be  respected, 
I  your  honor  must  defend. 

'Gainst  your  '  Life  and  Youth,'  misprinted, 
None  shall  breathe  a  word  of  blame. 

That  the  world  may  not  misjudge  you, 
This  I  solemnly  proclaim : 

In  the  Jewish  '  Life  and  Youth  '  song, 

Sung  amidst  our  cruel  strife, 
Just  two  syllables  are  missing : 

One  is  youth  and  one  is  life! " 


THE  FIRST  SNOW 


C&e  JFirst 

CAIRY-LIKE  on  earth  advancing, 
All  transforming,  all  entrancing, 
Playing  on  their  way  and  dancing, 
Soil-untarnished  yet, 

Silver  stars  from  sky  are  dropping, 
Little  fairies  skipping,  hopping, 
On  the  roofs  and  turrets  popping, 
Crowns  with  diamonds  set. 

Greeting  nature's  silver  wedding, 
Argent  splendor  they  are  shedding, 
And  a  bridal  veil  outspreading, 
Like  a  silver  net ; 

Till  town-alleys,  foul  and  tainted, 
Turn  cathedral-aisles  ensainted, 
Carved  with  gorgeous,  ermine-painted, 
Ornamental  fret. 


SONGS  OF  A   WANDERER 


How  all  changed  by  elfin  power ! 
Every  house  a  magic  tower, 
Every  tree  with  lilac-flower 
Lures  like  a  coquette. 

Following  in  their  magic  traces, 
Hidden  joy  each  heart  embraces, 
Sparkling  eyes  and  brightened  faces 
Everywhere  are  met. 

How  I  love  you,  white-robed  city. 
Maiden-pure,  and  maiden-pretty ! 
But  my  love  is — what  a  pity ! — 
Tempered  with  regret. 

Truer  lover  you  would  find  me, 
I  f  you  were  not  to  remind  me 
Of  a  cold  land  left  behind  me 
That  I'd  fain  forget. 


BY  NIGHT  103 


'"PHE  night  is  fair,  the  night  is  still. 

God's  spirit  soars  o'er  vale  and  hill ; 
I  dream  again  fair  childhood's  dreams ; 
The  world  a  temple  is,  meseems, 
The  beaming  silver  moon  in  sky 
Its  lamp  eternal  is  on  high  ; 
And  far  behind  the  dots  that  spark 
There  lies  concealed  a  holy  ark, 
O'er  which  the  sky — its  curtain  blue — 
Is  set  with  stars — with  diamonds  true ; 
Around  on  earth,  where'er  I  look, 
I  see  an  open,  sacred  book, 
Whose  every  page — each  hill  and  vale — 
Relates  a  hidden,  sacred  tale. 

The  night  is  still,  and  on  my  way 
I  hear  a  congregation  pray — 


104  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

The  crooning  streams,  the  lilting  rills, 
The  solemn  woods,  the  musing  hills. 
Each  stalk  and  blade,  each  rush  and  plant, 
Their  sacred  hymns  to  heaven  chant. 
Each  tender  flower,  full  of  grace, 
In  fragrant  tones  sings  heaven's  praise. 
O'er  field  and  mead  the  breeze  goes  round, 
And  carries  blessings  in  its  sound. 
In  wood  and  valley,  everywhere, 
The  sacred  music  fills  the  air ; 
The  trees,  the  birds,  the  waterfall, 
They  join  the  chorus,  each  and  all. 

On  earth  an  echo  hovers  round, 
And  calls :  "  This  earth  is  holy  ground, 
Which  in  His  mercy  He  hath  blessed." 
And  when  I  heard  the  voice,  I  guessed 
That  all  the  longings  of  my  heart 
And  I  myself  are  but  a  part, 
Like  ev'rything  I  hear  and  see, 
Of  nature's  temple,  pure  and  free. 


"HOW  FAIR  .  .  ."  105 


Jfm'r ,  * .  * 

He  who  walks  by  the  way,  and  says :    "  How  fair  is 
that  tree  or  that  field,"  is  as  if  he  had  forfeited  his  soul. 

— Ethics  of  the  Fathers. 

VA/  ALKING  by  the  way,  when  spring  is 

Bright,  and  fresh,  and  mild, 
Say  not :   "  O,  how  fair  the  garden 
Or  the  field  is,"  child. 

All  on  earth  is  vain,  remember, 

All  has  but  one  goal ; 
Saying :  "  O,  how  fair  the  garden," 

You  forego  your  soul. 

Rabbi  dear,  your  words  are  sacred — 

This  I  can't  conceal — 
I  say  not :  "  How  fair  the  garden," 

But  I  feel,  I  feel ! 


xo6  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Feel  the  breeze  that  soothes,  entrances, 

Like  a  golden  dream ; 
Feel  the  flowers  shedding  perfume 

In  a  fragrant  stream. 

Hear  the  rippling  brooklet  whisper, 

And  its  tongue  I  know  ; 
Not  a  word ! — but  waves  of  feelings 

Sea-like  ebb  and  flow. 

Feel  the  sky,  a  crystal  ocean 

Hanging  overhead ; 
Hear  on  stairs  of  light  in  azure 

Heaven's  angels  tread. 

And  I  feel  my  heart  with  rapture 

Filling  to  the  brim ; 
In  a  wave  of  sounds  and  sunbeams 

I  immerse  and  swim. 


"HOW  FAIR  .  .  ."  107 

Then  in  the  lap  of  mother  nature 

Like  a  child  I  sink ; 
From  her  bosom  pure,  sweet  nectar 

Thirstily  I  drink. 

Living  wonders  in  the  garden 

I  see  scattered  round, 
But  remain  a  silent  witness, 

Utter  not  a  sound. 

Rabbi  dear,  your  words  are  sacred — 

This  I  can't  conceal — 
I  say  not :  "  How  fair  the  garden," 

But  I  feel,  I  feel. 


io8  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


/^OME  with  me  to  wood  and  field, 

Where  God's  wonders  are  revealed. 
Come  and  hear  the  skylark  sing 
Pseans  to  the  master  spring, 
Who  repaints  the  world  anew, 
Earth  in  green  and  sky  in  blue. 

Come  and  see  the  wakened  wood, 
That  all  winter  gloomy  stood, 
How  the  heaven's  golden  broom 
Sweeps  away  its  wintry  gloom. 

Come  and  stray  the  valleys  through, 
Dressed  in  silk  and  washed  in  clew ; 
See  the  daisy-babes  at  birth 
Suck  the  breast  of  mother  earth. 


SPRING  109 

Come  and  see  the  drowsy  streams, 
Kissed  by  heaven's  smiling  gleams, 
Wake,  and  gaily  speed  along, 
Babbling  on  their  way  a  song. 

Come  and  see  the  field  revived, 

And  the  shepherd  that  arrived 

Down  the  hill-slope  with  his  sheep ; 

Hear  his  song  so  sweet  and  deep : 

"  Spring  comes  only  " — pipes  his  fife — 

"  Once  each  year,  yet  once  in  life." 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


3n  tbe 

J  COME  to  thee,  O  woodland, 

From  town  and  men  to  hide ; 
To  birds,  and  trees,  and  flowers, 
My  heart's  woe  to  confide. 

They  were  my  mates  in  childhood, 
We  know  each  other  well ; 

And  oft  I  leave  the  city 

Among  these  friends  to  dwell. 

And  they  in  turn  cry :  "  Welcome !  " 
They  greet  me  with  a  song : 
"  The  sky,  and  air,  and  sunshine, 
Alike  to  all  belong  " — 

A  truth  men  have  forgotten, 

Or  have  to  study  yet ; 
Or,  is  it  that  they  know  it, 

And  study  to  forget? 


IN  THE  WOOD 


They  dole  out  air  and  sunshine 
By  race,  and  creed,  and  birth ; 

They  cannot  share  God's  heaven, 
They  cannot  share  man's  earth. 

I  come  to  thee,  O  woodland, 
In  search  of  peace  and  rest  ; 

The  greedy  town  and  people 
Begloom  my  weary  breast. 


SONGS  OF  A   WANDERER 


C&e 

T  LOVE  you,  O  spring  sky, 

So  pure  and  so  mild, 
Your  smiles  and  your  tears  are 
The  moods  of  a  child. 

Your  smiles  are  so  beamy, 
Your  tears  are  so  pearly ; 

I  rise  in  the  morning 
To  look  at  you  early ; 

And  whether  I  find  that 
You  smile  or  you  cry, 

I  cannot  but  love  you, 
O  child-looking  sky. 


BY  THE  SEA  113 


/^ALM  is  the  ocean  at  sunset, 

Calm  is  my  heart,  too,  meseems ; 
And  as  the  sun  in  the  sea  waves 

Mirrored  in  heart  are  youth's  dreams. 

Maybe  the  waves  have  forgotten 
Tempest,  and  shipwreck,  and  blast ; 

But,  ah,  my  heart,  it  forgets  not 
All  its  wrecked  dreams  of  the  past. 


ii4  SONGS  OF  A   WANDERER 


T  WEEP   for  the  morning,  the   fresh,   breezy 
morning, 

So  bracing,  so  sweet,  and  so  bright ; 
I  weep  for  the  morning,  the  fair,  sunny  morning, 

That  passed  into  night. 

I  weep  for  the  flowers,  the  sun-cherished  flowers, 
With  fragrance  my  garden  they  filled ; 

I  weep  for  the  flowers,  the  tender,  sweet  flowers, 
Cold  autumn  has  killed. 

I  weep  for  the  dreams,  and  the  hopes,  and  the 

longings, 

With  rapture  my  heart  they  once  filled ; 
I  weep  for  the  dreams,  and  the  hopes,  and  the 

longings, 
Now  faded  and  chilled. 


/  WEEP  115 

I  weep  for  the  heart  that  so  deeply,  so  truly, 
Has  loved,  and  of  love  known  the  pain ; 

I  weep  for  the  heart  that  could  love  and  could 

suffer, 
And  suffered  in  vain. 


n6  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


I  ASKED  the  stars  in  heaven, 
One  still  and  star-lit  night  : 
"  Oh,  wherefore,  tell  me,  wherefore 
So  pale  and  cold  your  light  ? 

I  know  that  you  are  light  worlds, 
A  globe  each  seeming  spark ; 

Such  hosts  of  you  shine  on  us, 
Why  is  our  earth  so  dark? 

I  know  that  you  are  flame  worlds, 

A  sun  each  dot  of  gold ; 
Such  hosts  of  you  are  burning, 

Why  is  our  earth  so  cold  ?  " 

The  stars,  they  did  not  answer — 

We  stood  so  far  apart ; 
A  voice  replied  beside  me: 

"  Inquire  within  your  heart ! 


I  ASKED  THE  STARS  nf. 

Your  heart,  it,  too,  is  star-like, 

A  world  that  seems  a  spark ; 
It,  too,  sheds  rays  around  it — 

Why  is  your  path  so  dark  ? 

It,  too,  has  skyey  longings, 

And  golden  dreams  untold ; 
It,  too,  is  burning,  burning, 

Why  is  your  life  so  cold  ?  " 

In  vain  the  poet's  questions 

I  heard  within  my  breast; 
The  heart  and  stars  are  riddles 

No  mortal  ever  guessed. 


u8  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


a  Hap 

N  his  cot  my  little  boy 

Lay  so  pale  and  weak, 
And  a  golden  ray  of  light 
Played  upon  his  cheek. 

"  Have  you  come  down  from  the  sky  ? 

Tell  me,  golden  ray, 
Just  to  kiss  my  darling  boy, 

Take  his  pain  away  ? 

Have  the  guardian  angels  then 

Sent  you  from  above, 
Just  to  cheer  my  ailing  pet, 

Bring  him  heaven's  love  ? 

Or,  perchance,  you  have  been  sent, 

Just  to  close  his  eye, 
And  to  take  his  angel  soul 

Back  into  the  sky  ?  " 


A  RAY  119 


Silent  was  the  golden  ray, 

Silent  was  I,  too ; 
But  my  darling's  pallid  face 

Paler,  paler  grew. 


SONGS  OF  A   WANDERER 


3  Cear  anD  a  %milt 

VAT"  HEN  in  your  eye  I  saw  a  tear, 

You  seemed,  I  know  not  why, 
A  child  of  purer,  higher  worlds, 
A  daughter  of  the  sky. 

I  loved  you,  and  I  told  you  so ; 

But  pardon  me,  my  dear, 
I  was  misled — I  loved  not  you, 

I  merely  loved  your  tear. 

For  in  a  while,  when  to  a  smile 
Your  sparkling  eyes  gave  birth, 

You  stood  a  maid,  like  maidens  all, 
A  daughter  of  the  earth. 

I  felt  at  once  the  spell  was  gone, 
I  changed  in  one  short  while ; 

The  flame  you  kindled  with  your  tear 
You  quenched  then  with  your  smile. 


A  TEAR  AND  A  SMILE 


But  still,  sometimes  I  wonder  why — 

All  chemistry  to  flout — 
Your  humid  tear  could  light  a  flame 

Your  glowing  smile  put  out. 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Opting  Jftig&f  $  Dream 

HpHAT  spring  night  through  silver 

We  saw  the  moon  sail, 
The  sky  princess  wearing 
A  dream-woven  veil. 

The  sky  princess  wearing 

A  dream- woven  veil, 
She  dreamily  told  us 

Love's  wonderful  tale. 

She  dreamily  told  us 

Love's  wonderful  tale. 
How  sweet  was,  O  child,  then 

Thy  breath  to  inhale ! 

How  sweet  was,  O  child,  then 

Thy  breath  to  inhale, 
Like  nectar  of  lilies 

That  grew  down  the  vale. 


A  SPRING  NIGHTS  DREAM  123 

Like  nectar  of  lilies 

That  grew  down  the  vale, 
The  lilies  and  lovers 

Who'll  dare  to  assail  ? 

"  The  lilies  and  lovers 

Who'll  dare  to  assail  ?  " 
Thus  sang  us  each  mountain, 

Each  hill,  and  each  dale. 

Thus  sang  us  each  mountain, 

Each  hill,  and  each  dale, 
But  youth  is  so  short,  and 

Our  bliss  is  so  frail. 

Our  youth  is  so  short,  and 

Our  bliss  is  so  frail, 
Like  shadows  they  flitted, 

Leaving  pain  in  their  trail. 


124  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Like  shadows  they  flitted, 
Leaving  pain  in  their  trail, 

And  left  us  in  sunder 
Our  dream  to  bewail. 


TO  YOU  125 


Co  gou 

/^\NCE  at  parting  we  felt  lonely, 

Meetings  were  so  sweet ; 
Now  once  more  we  feel  so  lonely — 
Only  when  we  meet.  .  .  . 

Once  at  parting  we  would  trifle, 

But  our  hearts  would  cry ; 
Now  we  part  and  sigh,  but  truly 

Hearts  and  eyes  are  dry.  .  .  . 

Once  it  used  to  be  a  mystery, 

Now  it  seems  so  plain ; 
Once  we  could  not,  now  we  would  not, 

All  the  truth  explain. 


i26  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


3  Dream 

A   GOLDEN  dream 
I  had  in  May ; 
Both  youth  and  dream 
Have  passed  away. 

My  dream  is  lost, 
My  youth  is  o'er ; 

I  mourn  them  both, 
My  dream  the  more. 

A  youthless  life 

Still  real  may  seem ; 
But  what  is  life 

Without  a  dream? 


THE  LAST  MELODY  127 


Cfie  JLa0t 

\A7HEN  the  singer's  harp  is  silent, 
And  no  longer  sighs  or  sings, 
Come,  my  dear,  'twixt  dark  and  daylight, 
Gently  touch  the  songless  strings. 

And  a  miracle  will  happen : 
They  will  sigh  and  sing  anew ; 

For  a  melody  is  left  there, 
One  last  melody — for  you. 

Sweetly-sad  and  sadly- joyous, 
Like  a  message  from  above, 

Like  the  fragrance  of  the  gloaming, 
Like  the  bliss  and  pain  of  love. 

Come,  beloved,  touch  the  harp-strings, 
They  will  sigh  and  sing  anew ; 

For  that  melody  lies  hidden,  . 
Waiting  long,  long  years  for  you. 


128  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

There  I  hid  it  sadly- joyous, 

When  I  still  was  pure  and  young ; 

If  you  come  not,  it  will  ever 
Hidden  there  remain,  unsung. 


TO  129 


Co  - 

VA7HEN  I  was  young,  and  pure,  and  sound, 

I  offered  you  my  heart, 
But  you  declined.    Since  then  our  ways 
Have  lain  f  ore'er  apart. 

My  heart  was  broken.    I  was  left 

Alone  on  earth  to  pine ; 
My  heart  was  broken,  but  the  bits, 

O,  were  they  yours  or  mine  ? 

I  did  not  know ;  but  once  I  took 

The  tiny,  crumbling  parts, 
And  made  a  song  of  each.    My  songs 

Are  tiny  broken  hearts. 

I  sing  my  song,  but  do  not  know 

To  whom  it  should  belong ; 
It  is  not  yours,  it  is  not  mine — 

Pray,  who  will  claim  my  song  ? 


130  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Creature 

,  I  had  no  earthly  jewels, 
Never  knew  the  merchant's  art ; 
All  the  jewels  heaven  gave  me 
Heaven  sealed  within  my  heart. 

When  I  offered  you  my  treasure, 
You  declined,  and  we  did  part ; 

Child,  you  know  not  what  a  treasure 
You  have  missed — a  poet's  heart. 


IN  A  DREAM  131 


Un  a  Dream 

I  WAS  sitting  alone  by  the  sea-shore, 

And  watching  the  waves  from  a  steep ; 
The  clouded  sun  was  just  setting, 
The  waves  were  lulling  to  sleep. 

I  dreamt  my  mother  approached  me: 
"  Why  are  you  so  pale,  my  child?  " 

The  tears  in  her  eyes  were  trembling, 
Though  gloomily  gazing  she  smiled. 

"  O  mother,  since  I  left  you, 
I  found  no  rest  and  no  friend, 

I  roam  a  homeless  vagrant 
The  earth  from  end  to  end." 

She  dropped  a  tear  on  my  forehead. 

I  woke — it  was  starting  to  rain. 
The  gloom  o'er  the  sea  grew  deeper, 

And  deeper  grew  likewise  my  pain. 


132  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Children 

T_T  ERE  they  are,  my  little  darlings, 

All  their  merry  throng; 
Each  of  them  a  sportive  fairy, 
Each  a  living  song. 

Voices — silver  bells  are  chiming ; 

Eyes — transparent  streams, 
Deep  and  sparkling,  and  reflecting, 

Heaven's  purest  beams. 

Little  teeth — carved  pearly  jewels, 

Waving  gold  their  hair ; 
Merry  laughter — bells  of  silver, 

Ringing  in  the  air. 

Songs  they  are,  the  little  darlings, 

Songs  devoid  of  themes ; 
When  I  see  them  play,  there  spring  up 

All  my  childhood's  dreams. 


CHILDREN  AND  FLOWERS  133 


CftflDren  and  Jflotoer0 

\7  OU  ask  me,  friend,  what  best  I  love 

In  life's  most  blissful  hours, 
When  earth  is  bright  as  heaven  above — 
I  children  love  and  flowers. 

I  know  no  gem  of  greater  worth 

In  this  fair  world  of  ours 
Than  flowers,  children  of  the  earth, 

And  children,  earth's  fair  flowers. 

You  ask  me,  friend,  what  I  love  best 

In  life's  autumnal  hours, 
When  hearts,  like  nature,  long  for  rest — 

I  children  love  and  flowers. 

The  deepest  joy  sent  from  above 

To  cheer  this  world  of  ours 
Are  flowers,  emblems  of  God's  love, 

And  children,  love's  pure  flowers. 


134  SONGS   OF  A    WANDERER 


Wbtn  3  Die 

\A7HEN  I  die— O  be  it  May-time, 

When  the  linnets  sweetly  trill, 
When  gay  children  at  their  playtime 
Hill  and  vale  with  gladness  fill ; 

In  the  dreamy  twilight  hours, 
When  the  skies  are  blue  and  deep, 

I  should  say  with  dozing  flowers : 

"  Earth,  good  night !  " — and  go  to  sleep. 

Flowers,  too,  should  be  adorning 
That  lone  grave  where  I  am  lain, 

Till,  like  flowers,  one  fair  morning 
I  awake  to  life  again. 


I  WILL  NOT  CHANGE  135 


Tb  Will  Jftot  Change 

T  WILL  not  change  my  path  with  you, 

O  worshippers  of  gold! 
My  path  is  rough,  but  heaven-lit, 
And  yours  is  smooth,  but  cold. 

In  your  resplendent  halls  each  night 

The  ghost  of  envy  strides, 
Whilst  in  the  castle  of  my  heart 

The  living  God  resides. 

My  heart  is  young,  though  youth  is  gone ; 

Your  hearts  in  youth  are  old ; 
I  will  not  change  one  golden  dream 

For  all  your  dreams  of  gold. 


136  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Like  a  15itD  in  tfje 

T  SING  like  a  bird  in  the  sky, 

Not  knowing,  not  reasoning  why ; 
I  sing  like  the  breezes  in  spring, 
I  sing  when  my  soul  bids  me  sing. 
Whatsoever  may  start  songs  and  tunes  in  my 

heart, 
I  sing  like  a  bird  in  the  sky. 

I  sing  like  the  brook  and  the  stream, 
And  free  is  my  heart-woven  dream ; 
My  song  from  within  is  ordained, 
And  fountain-like  flows  unrestrained. 
When  with  joys  or  with  woes  my  full  heart 

overflows, 
I  sing  like  the  brook  and  the  stream. 


/  SING  LIKE  A  BIRD  IN  THE  SKY  137 

I  sing  like  the  stars  in  the  night, 
When  weaving  their  motions  of  light ; 
I  sing  with  all  nature  around ; 
I  sing,  for  to  sing  I  am  bound. 
With  no  aim  and  no  goal,  from  the  soul  of  my 

soul, 
I  sing  like  the  stars  in  the  night. 


138  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


3  Deati  IBitd 

]  WALKED  in  the  wood, 

And  the  birds'  songs  I  heard, 
So  shrill  and  so  sweet, 

And  my  heart  was  so  stirred ! 
Beneath  in  the  grass 

Lay  a  dead  little  bird. 


I  gazed  at  the  bird 

That  lay  mute  on  the  ground  ; 
I  heard  the  sweet  songs 

That  were  trilling  around  ; 
"  Dead  singer,"  I  mused, 

"  Who  now  misses  thy  sound  ? 


A  DEAD  BIRD  139 


Where  be  now  the  sweet  tunes 
In  the  wood  thou  hast  shed  ? 

New  singers,  new  notes, 
Have  taken  thy  stead ; 

Who  misses  his  song 

When  the  singer  is  dead  ? 

My  fate,  little  songster, 
To  thine  will  be  like : 

When  my  hour  for  silence 
Eternal  shall  strike, 

The  song  and  the  singer 
Will  vanish  alike." 


i4o  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


two  Cears 

T  N  the  depth  of  my  heart, 

On  its  grief-riddled  bed, 
There  are  songs  yet  unsung, 
There  are  tears  yet  unshed. 

But  the  songs  and  the  tears 
In  one  multitude  throng, 

Till,  instead  of  a  tear, 

Sometimes  bursts  out  a  song. 

And  the  sound  of  a  song 
In  my  soul  when  I  hear, 

From  my  heart  to  my  eye 
Rolls  a  grief-laden  tear. 

But  at  times  they  combine, 
Flow  together  along ; 

Then  I  cannot  guess  which 
Is  a  tear,  which  a  song. 


BETRAYED  141 


TBettapeD 

HTHE  night  was  still  and  star-lit, 

Dumbly  I  gazed  on  high ; 
Only  the  stars  in  heaven 

Could  hear  my  bosom's  sigh. 

But  the  stars  betrayed  my  secret ; 

My  sorrow  they  revealed 
In  the  sky  to  every  song-bird, 

On  earth  to  wood  and  field. 

And  now  each  bird  in  the  forest, 
Each  fluttering  blade  and  leaf, 

Croons  and  whispers  and  babbles 
My  jealously  hidden  grief. 


10 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


a  pledge 

T  PLEDGED  my  soul  on  high, 

And  borrowed  love's  fair  dream, 
But  lost  my  dream  on  earth ; 
What  will  my  pledge  redeem  ? 

Now,  forfeited,  my  soul 

Remains  a  pledge  above, 
Whilst  I  on  earth  in  vain 

Still  seek  the  dream  of  love. 


TWO  SORROWS  143 


Ctoo 

\A  Y  heart  was  young  and  cheerful, 

Life's  care  I  did  not  know ; 
Then  came  the  grief  of  mankind, 
And  filled  my  heart  with  woe. 

Now  fate,  with  years,  has  brought  me, 
My  own  deep  grief  and  pain ; 

And  now  my  heart  is  bursting — 
It  cannot  both  contain. 

And  as  I  feel  it  bursting, 

I  call  to  heav'n  and  pray : 
O  God,  take  mankind's  sorroWj 

Or  else  take  mine  away ! 


144  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


l^eart 

CATE,  the  heartsmith,  on  his  anvil, 

Had  my  glowing  heart, 
Struck  and  beat  it  with  his  hammer, 

And  the  sparks  did  dart, 
In  the  smithy's  puddles  falling 
Spark  by  spark. 

When  the  heart  grew  cold  and  hardened, 
Fate,  the  heartsmith,  spoke : 

"  Take  thy  heart,  it  was  not  fitted 
For  its  earthly  yoke ; 

Take  it  back,  I've  made  it  human — 
Hard  and  dark." 


TWO  FATES  145 


Ctoo 

,  you  say  it  seems  so  strange 
That  my  moods  and  likes  so  change 

Sad  and  gay,  and  meek  and  proud, 
Love  each  man,  and  hate  the  crowd. 

Heaven  gave  me,  child,  two  things: 
Lust  to  fly  and  cut-off  wings. 

Bondman's  fate  and  freeman's  strife — 
These  my  portions  are  in  life. 

Born  for  joy  and  made  to  weep, 
Born  to  soar  and  taught  to  creep. 

And  my  soul  thus  humbly-proud 
Is  a  flame  enwrapped  in  cloud. 

This  is  why  I  sing  and  cry, 
Crawl  on  earth,  and  soar  in  sky. 

This  is  why  I  falling  rise, 

This  is  why  my  songs  are  sighs. 


i46  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


T  N  the  mellow  beams 

Of  the  pallid  moon, 
In  the  wordless  songs 

That  the  streamlets  croon, 

In  the  lays  of  love 
That  the  linnet  trills, 

In  the  zephyr's  breath 
O'er  the  vales  and  hills, 

In  the  sylvan  tales 

Whispered  by  the  trees, 

In  the  golden  dreams 
Wafted  by  the  breeze, 

In  each  warbling  bird — 

Airy  little  elf— 
Everywhere  I  hear 

And  I  see  myself. 


MYSELF  147 


If  I  cease  to  breathe, 
If  I  cease  to  love, 

All  is  mute  on  earth 
And  in  the  sky  above. 


i48  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


SDeal 

\  A/ HAT  I  pray  for  and  desire 

Is  no  treasure,  store  of  gold, 
But  a  soul  that  can  aspire, 

And  a  heart  that  grows  not  old ; 

But  a  spot,  where  I  may,  after 

My  day's  toil  is  at  an  end, 
Hear  gay  children's  silver  laughter, 

Watch  the  sun  in  gold  descend ; 

But  a  streamlet  cool  to  greet  me, 

When  I  pass  through  grove  and  mead, 

And  a  maiden's  smile  to  meet  me, 
And  a  poet's  page  to  read. 

In  my  homeland  live  and  labor 
As  my  guide  the  sky  above; 

And  a  palm-grove  as  my  neighbor, 
As  my  friend — the  one  I  love. 


TO  A  RICH  FRIEND  149 


Co  a  EUcf)  jfrienD 

T  DID  not  bow  to  you  my  head, 

To  you  who  from  your  birth 
By  slaves  were  hailed  a  lord  of  slaves, 
To  rule  a  servile  earth. 

I  did  not  bow  to  you  my  head, 

To  you  whom  God  did  curse  ; 
He  put  a  purse  within  your  heart, 

Your  heart — within  a  purse. 

I  did  not  bow  to  you  my  head, 
When  I  was  starved  for  bread, 

Or  parched  with  thirst,  or  numbed  with  cold- 
I  did  not  bow  my  head. 

When  I  was  starved,  I  pitied  you. 

My  heart  for  you  felt  sad  ; 
I  would  not  take  your  gold — your  soul — 

The  only  soul  you  had. 


ISO  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

When  starved  for  bread,  or  numbed  with  cold, 

I  did  not  bow  my  head  ; 
For  I  was  rich,  and  you  were  poor, 

You  lacked  a  soul,  I — bread. 


TO  MY  RICH  BROTHER  151 


Co  6@p  Bici)  IBrotfjer 


T  SEE  you  in  your  mansion 

All-powerful  and  proud, 
Emblazoned  in  your  splendor 
Amidst  a  flattering  crowd. 

A  cottage  and  a  garden 
To  me  on  earth  belong, 

My  path  in  life  is  humble, 
My  realm,  the  realm  of  song. 

And  yet,  in  faith,  my  brother, 
I  envy  not  your  part  : 

He  needs  no  gold,  nor  jewels 
To  whom  God  gave  a  heart. 

Have  robes  of  silk  and  velvet 

As  many  as  you  will, 
The  velvet  of  my  pansies 

Is  finer  woven  still. 


152  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

And  may  your  diamonds  glitter, 
And  may  your  opals  shine, 

The  diamond  stars  are  brighter, 
The  opal  sky  is  mine. 

And  be  of  rare  old  silver 

Your  goblet,  dish,  and  spoon, 

My  silver  is  still  older — 
The  silver  of  the  moon. 

From  all  your  hired  musicians 
Such  tunes  you  never  heard 

As  on  a  fair  spring  morning 
The  music  of  a  bird. 

Your  tapestries  and  landscapes, 
However  rare  and  quaint — 

My  sunrise  and  my  sunset 
A  finer  brush  did  paint. 


TO  MY  RICH  BROTHER  153 

Your  realm  is  rich  and  gorgeous, 

Your  realm  to  me  is  strange, 
My  path  in  life  is  humble — 

And  that  I  will  not  change. 

But  should  you  ever,  brother, 
Feel  worn,  and  tired,  and  cold, 

I  know  of  bliss  and  pleasures 
You  cannot  buy  for  gold. 

And  should  you  ever,  brother, 

For  love  and  freedom  long, 
Then  come  into  my  garden, 

The  realm  of  love  and  song. 


154  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


anD 

T  HAVE  no  armor,  helm,  or  shield 

From  life's  sore  darts  to  save  me; 
My  weapon  in  this  battlefield 
Is  but  the  harp  God  gave  me. 

He  gave  me,  too,  a  heart  to  sigh 
And  pine  and  bleed  for  others, 

When  from  the  field  I  hear  the  cry : 
"  Help !  help !  we  are  your  brothers." 

It  thrills  me  through  with  anguish  sharp 
To  leave  their  call  unheeded ; 

"  Of  what  avail,"  they  say,  "  your  harp, 
Where  spear  and  sword  are  needed  ?  " 

I  cannot  meet  their  burning  eyes, 
That  righteous  wrath  betoken ; 

Shamed,  dumb,  I  stand  in  sorry  wise, — 
My  harp  and  heart  are  broken. 


A  SONG  155 


CAY, not,  child,  that  in  these  songs 

You  have  read  a  part 
Of  the  hopes  and  dreams  that  once 
Filled  the  singer's  heart. 

Child,  the  poet's  fairest  dreams 

Reach  no  mortal  ears, 
For  the  sweetness  of  his  songs 

Only  his  soul  hears. 

Of  his  heart-begotten  flame 
Words  are  cast-off  shades, 

Just  as  rubies  shine  in  rocks, 
Pearls  in  ocean  glades, 

So  the  poet's  deepest  dreams, 

Love,  and  joy,  and  pain, 
Unexpressed  in  mortal  words, 

In  his  heart  remain. 


1 56  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


C&e  JFeast  of 

I N  the  sunny  days  of  childhood 

From  my  grandfather  I  heard 
Charming  tales  of  by-gone  ages 
That  my  spirit  deeply  stirred. 

Charming  tales  and  ancient  legends 
That  I  felt,  I  knew,  were  true : 

Stories  of  the  hoary  ages 
That  remain  forever  new. 

Of  the  Pesach-days  he  told  me, 
Days  that  joy  and  sunshine  bring; 

Of  the  Festival  of  Freedom, 
Of  revival  and  of  spring. 

Of  the  slave  people  in  Egypt, 
Whose  hot  blood,  so  rashly  spilt, 

Soaked  into  the  bricks  and  mortar 
Of  the  fortresses  they  built. 


THE  FEAST  OF  SPRING  157 

How  on  them,  the  God-forsaken, 

After  gloomy,  wintry  days, 
Shone  at  last  the  rays  of  freedom, 

Heaven's  bright,  benignant  rays. 

How  among  them  rose  a  prophet, 

Like  a  guiding  star  by  night ; 
And  when  pleading  for  their  freedom, 

How  he  crushed  a  tyrant's  might. 

How  he  taught  the  fettered  people 

Not  in  vain  their  blood  to  spill ; 
Turning  bondmen  into  freemen, 

Men  of  honor  and  of  will. 

How  no  despot's  might  could  hinder, 
Nor  their  freedom's  march  restrain, 

Till  before  their  will  resistless 
Stormy  ocean  burst  in  twain. 
ii 


158  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Then  was  Israel's  glorious  springtime, 
After  which  a  summer  came, 

Followed  by  a  golden  harvest, 
Free  from  yoke  and  free  from  shame. 

When  my  grandfather  I  questioned : 
"  How  long  did  that  summer  last  ?  " 

Gloomily  he  gazed  and  pondered, 
And  he  answered  me  at  last : 

"  Child,  it  was  a  long,  bright  summer, 

But  a  winter  came  again ; 
Came  with  cold,  and  mist,  and  darkness, 

Came  with  storms  of  grief  and  pain. 

Frost  and  tempest — strife,  contention- 
Raged  once  more  in  every  part, 

Stealing  into  souls  and  freezing 
Will  and  hope  in  every  heart. 


THE  FEAST  OF  SPRING  159 

Furious  storm  once  more  dispersed  us ; 

Israel,  erstwhile  free  and  great, 
Into  lands  of  cruel  despots 

Went  to  face  a  bondman's  fate." 

"  Is  this  winter,  prithee,  endless  ?  " 

Questioning  again  I  sighed ; 
And  two  crystal  tears  were  trembling 

In  his  eyes  when  he  replied : 

Nay,  my  boy,  it  seems  but  endless, 

But  it  cannot,  will  not  be ; 
Israel's  shackles  will  be  broken, 

One  fair  day  he  will  be  free ! 

In  his  soul  will  reawaken 

Courage,  will,  and  pride,  and  might ; 
Freedom's  sunrise,  child,  will  follow 

His  long,  starless  exile  night. 


160  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

But  till  then,  ere  spring's  arrival — 
For  the  wintry  steps  are  slow — 

Pesach  is  a  sweet  remembrance 
Of  a  spring  of  long  ago." 


THE  SEDER  161 


Cfte 


/COTTAGES  whitewashed, 

And  cosy  and  neat, 
Smilingly  waiting 

The  spring  feast  to  meet. 


Happy- faced  children 
At  play  here  and  there, 

Perfume  and  freshness 
Of  spring  in  the  air. 

II 

Bashfully  blushing, 
The  sun,  like  a  bride, 

Goes  down  in  crimson 
In  Westland  to  hide. 


162  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Fair  is  the  twilight, 

And  fragrant  and  still ; 

Little  by  little 

The  synagogues  fill. 

One  by  one  kindle 

The  night's  gleaming  eyes 
Candles  in  windows, 

And  stars  in  the  skies. 


Ill 
Ended  in  Shul  is 

The  service  divine ; 
Seder  is  started 

With  legends  and  wine. 

Father  is  blessing 

The  night  of  all  nights; 
All  who  are  hungry 

To  feast  he  invites. 


THE  SEDER  163 


"  All  who  are  homeless 
Yet  masters  shall  be, 

Slaves  who  are  this  year — 
The  next  shall  be  free !  " 

Children  ask  "  questions," 
And  father  replies; 

Playfully  sparkle 

The  wine  and  the  eyes. 

Hymns  of  redemption 

All  merrily  sing, 
Queen  is  each  mother, 

Each  father,  a  king. 

IV 
Midnight.    The  Seder 

Is  come  to  an  end ; 
Guardian  angels 

From  heaven  descend. 


1 64  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Each  one  a  message 
Of  liberty  brings, 

Scattering  blessings 

Of  peace  from  his  wings. 

V 

Asleep  is  the  townlet, 
The  field,  and  the  lake ; 

Only  the  full  moon 
Above  is  awake, 

Shedding  its  tender, 
Its  silvery  light, 

Guarding  God's  chosen, 
God's  people  to-night. 


THE  FEAST  OF  WEEKS  165 


4Fea0t  of 

\A/  E  have  an  ancient  custom 

Surviving  from  the  East, 
To  decorate  our  dwellings 
With  flowers  for  the  feast. 

How  quaint  is  this  old  custom 
From  East  to  exile  brought! 

But  why  does  it  awaken 

In  me  such  gloomy  thought? 

I  see  the  flower-bearers 

'Mid  ghetto's  rush  and  strife, 
And  in  my  mind  is  woven 

A  dream  of  vanished  life. 

A  land  with  fair  green  pastures 

Is  in  my  vision  born, 
And  palm  and  cedar  forests, 

And  fields  of  golden  corn, 


1 66  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

And  mountains  trimmed  with  olives, 
And  vales  with  lilies  decked, 

And  peasants  strong  and  happy, 
With  heart  and  head  erect. 

Each  garden  and  each  vineyard 
In  tones  of  plenty  speaks, 

Rich  nature  celebrating 

Its  glorious  Feast  of  Weeks. 

The  men  like  stately  cedars, 
The  women  tall  as  palms, 

Their  festal  hymns  are  chanting, 
Their  wondrous  sacred  psalms. 

And  children,  gay  and  merry, 

Arrive  in  fair  array, 
Luxuriant  laurels  bearing 

In  honor  of  the  day. 


THE  FEAST  OF  WEEKS  167 

The  phantom  views  are  vanished ; 

Around,  alas,  I  see 
A  sordid,  gloomy  ghetto — 

No  sign  of  field  or  tree. 

I  see  through  busy  alleys 

A  Jew  his  flowers  bring, 
To  decorate  his  dwelling 

In  memory  of  spring. 

Oh,  long  has  he  forgotten 

His  fair,  his  native  home ; 
In  exile  he  has  learned 

From  town  to  town  to  roam. 

No  longer  a  Judean — 

A  weary,  exiled  Jew ; 
In  ghetto  he  is  praying 

For  harvest,  rain,  and  dew. 


168  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

I  see  him  bent  and  weary — 
O  God,  how  sad  it  is! — 

How  long  will  he  pluck  flowers 
From  fields  that  are  not  his  ? 

And  prayingly  I  murmur: 
"  O  Israel's  Rock  and  Shield, 

Bring  back  Thy  ancient  people 
To  garden,  wood,  and  field. 

Let  them  revive  the  custom, 
Fair  custom  of  the  East, 

With  flowers  from  their  gardens 
To  celebrate  their  feast." 


HANUKKAH  LIGHTS  169 


Danukkaf)  Li 

I  KINDLED  my  eight  little  candles, 

My  Hanukkah  candles,  and  lo ! 
Fair  visions  and  dreams  half-forgotten 
Were  rising  of  years  long  ago. 

I  musingly  gazed  at  my  candles, 
Meseemed  in  their  quivering  flames 

In  golden,  in  fiery  letters 

I  read  the  old,  glorious  names ; 

The  names  of  our  heroes  immortal, 
The  noble,  the  brave,  and  the  true; 

A  battlefield  saw  I  in  vision, 

Where  many  were  conquered  by  few ; 

And  mute  lay  the  Syrian  army, 
Judea's  proud  foe,  in  the  field ; 

And  Judas,  the  brave  Maccabaeus, 
I  saw  in  his  helmet  and  shield. 


170  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

His  eyes  shone  like  bright  stars  of  heaven, 

Like  music  resounded  his  voice : 
"  Brave  comrades,  we  fought  and  we  conquered, 

Now  let  us  in  God's  name  rejoice ! 

We  conquered ;  but  know,  my  brave  comrades, 

No  triumph  is  due  to  the  sword  ; 
Remember  our  motto  and  watchword, 

'  For  the  people  and  towns  of  the  Lord.'  " 

He  spoke,  and  from  all  the  four  corners 

An  echo  repeated  each  word ; 
The  woods  and  the  mountains  re-echoed  : 

"  For  the  people  and  towns  of  the  Lord." 

And  swiftly  the  message  spread,  calling : 

"  Judea,  Judea  is  free ! 
Rekindled  the  lamp  in  the  Temple, 

Rekindled  each  bosom  with  glee !  " 


HANUKKAH  LIGHTS  171 

My  Hanukkah  candles  soon  flickered, 
Around  me  was  darkness  of  night ; 

But  deep  in  my  soul  I  felt  shining 
A  heavenly,  wonderful  light. 


172  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Ct>e 

HP  HE  Rabbi  tells  his  old,  old  tale, 

The  pupils  seated  round. 
"...  And  thus,  my  boys,  no  holy  oil 
In  the  Temple  could  be  found. 

The  heathens  left  no  oil  to  light 

The  Lord's  eternal  lamp ; 
At  last  one  jar,  one  single  jar, 

Was  found  with  the  high  priest's  stamp. 

Its  oil  could  only  last  one  day — 
But  God  hath  wondrous  ways ; 

For  lo !  a  miracle  occurred : 

It  burned  for  eight  whole  days." 

The  tale  was  ended,  but  the  boys, 

All  open-eyed  and  dumb, 
Sat  listening  still,  as  though  aware 

Of  stranger  things  to  come. 


THE  MIRACLE  173 


Just  wait,  my  boys,  permit  me,  pray, 

The  liberty  to  take ; 
Your  Rabbi — may  he  pardon  me — 

Has  made  a  slight  mistake. 

Not  eight  days,  but  two  thousand  years 

That  jar  of  oil  did  last, 
To  quell  its  wondrous  flames  availed 

No  storm,  no  flood,  no  blast. 

But  this  is  not  yet  all,  my  boys : 

The  miracle  just  starts. 
This  flame  is  kindling  light  and  hope 

In  countless  gloomy  hearts. 

And  in  our  long  and  starless  night, 

Lest  we  should  go  astray, 
It  beacon-like  sheds  floods  of  light, 

And  eastwards  points  the  way, 
12 


174  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Where  light  will  shine  on  Zion's  hill, 

As  in  the  days  of  old. 
The  miracle  is  greater,  boys, 

Than  what  your  Rabbi  told. 


A  PRAYER  175 


3  prapet 

OD,  I  pray  Thee,  grant  Thy  people 

Just  their  daily  bread ; — 
Not  the  bread  of  strife  and  friction, 
Not  the  bread  of  sad  affliction, 

Tearless  daily  bread ; 
Not  the  bread  by  slaves  desired, 
Not  the  bread  by  shame  acquired — 

Honest  daily  bread ; 
That  they  may  no  longer  gather 
Crumbs  from  wealthy  tables,  Father, 

Give  their  daily  bread ! 

God,  I  pray  Thee,  grant  Thy  people 
Courage,  heart,  and  strength; — 
Not  the  strength,  like  tempest  rushing, 
On  its  way  all  wrecking,  crushing — 
Noble  heart  and  strength ; 


176  SONGS  OF  A   WANDERER 

That  in  man's  inhuman  battle, 
They  may  not,  like  driven  cattle, 

Slaughtered  be  at  length ; 
That  they  may  be  self -depending, 
That  they  may  be  self -de  fending, 

God,  O  give  them  strength ! 

God,  I  pray  Thee,  grant  Thy  people 

Just  a  little  pride ; — 
Not  the  pride  that  severs  brothers, 
Seeing  only  faults  in  others — 

True  and  noble  pride ; 
That  their  young,  and  brave,  and  healthy, 
That  their  wise,  and  strong,  and  wealthy, 

Drift  not  with  the  tide ; 
That  whatever  in  life  their  stations, 
Theirs  be  noble  aspirations, 

God,  O  give  them  pride ! 


A  PRAYER  177 

God,  I  pray  Thee,  grant  Thy  people 

Shelter  and  a  home ; — 
Not  a  home  that  swords  acquire, 
Not  a  home  of  blood  and  fire — • 

Just  a  peaceful  home ; 
That  they  may  not  ever  wander, 
Torn  and  rent  in  parts  asunder, 

Tramp  the  earth  and  roam ; 
That  their  bond  be  never  shattered, 
That  they  be  no  longer  scattered, 

God,  O  bring  them  home! 


178  SONGS  OF  A   WANDERER 


]  BELIEVE,  O  my  friend, 
That  the  day  will  arrive 
When  all  nations  for  peace 
And  for  justice  will  strive ; 

When  in  kindness  and  truth 
Soul  will  answer  to  soul, 

And  when  love  in  her  grace 
Will  the  peoples  control ; 

When  man,  humbled,  enslaved, 
Will  raise  proudly  his  head, 

When  no  groans  will  be  heaved, 
And  no  tears  will  be  shed. 

O  my  friend,  I  believe 
In  life's  heavenly  goal, 

In  the  height  of  man's  mind, 
In  the  depth  of  man's  soul ; 


MY  FAITH  179 

In  the  triumph  of  truth, 

In  all  mankind's  rebirth, 
In  the  kingdom  of  light, 

In  the  glory  on  earth. 

That  bright  beacon,  dear  friend, 
Through  our  fog  gleams  to  me ; 

But  between,  O,  between, 
What  a  stormy,  wild  sea ! 

And  the  sea  is  so  deep 

With  its  tears,  with  its  glooms ; 
And  the  shore,  that  bright  shore, 

So  remotely  it  looms. 

And  the  gale  is  so  fierce, 

And  so  dark  is  the  night ; 
And  the  fog  is  so  dense, 

And  so  faint  is  the  light ; 


i8o  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

That  I  know,  O  dear  friend, 
Not  for  you  nor  for  me 

'Tis  that  shore  to  attain 
Through  this  turbulent  sea. 


A  NEW  SONG  181 


3  H3eto 

D  Y  the  Babylonian  billows 

Sat  and  wept  the  exiled  Jew ; 
Judah's  harp  hung  mute  on  willows — 
Now  I  wish  to  sing  anew. 

Hush,  old  lamentation  reader, 

Cease  to  weep,  and  whine,  and  carp ! 

Left  old  Lebanon  no  cedar 

For  a  new-strung  Judah's  harp  ? 

Has  the  exile,  vile  and  odious, 
Rooted  out  king  David's  art  ? 

Is  there  left  no  soul  melodious 
To  awake  the  exile's  heart  ? 

Nay,  a  new  sun  rises  o'er  us, 
Judah's  harp  hung  mute  too  long ; 

Come  with  me  and  join  the  chorus 
Of  a  new-sung  Zion's  song! 


SONGS  OF  A   WANDERER 


Cenant 

IN  my  youth  hope  hired 

In  my  heart  a  tent ; 
Promised  me  a  fortune, 
Never  paid  her  rent. 

Bankrupt  is  my  tenant — 
This  I  know  at  length — 

Why  then  to  expel  her 
Do  I  lack  the  strength  ? 


DREAMS  OF  YOUTH  183 


Dreams  of  goutft 

/^V  NO,  they  will  not  die, 

My  golden  dreams  of  youth, 
When  faith,  and  bliss,  and  love 
No  phantoms  were,  but  truth. 

When  earth  appeared  to  me 

A  sky-reflecting  brook ; 
When  my  pure  childish  heart 

Was  but  a  sacred  book ; 

A  book  where  noble  deeds 
Wrote  here  and  there  a  line, 

And  oft  engraved  their  names 
In  characters  divine. 

O  childhood's  book  sublime, 

In  thee  I  find  a  page 
That  time  will  not  efface, 

That  will  not  fade  with  age. 


1 84  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

The  time  when  earth  below 
Seemed  fair  as  heav'n  above, 

When  all  the  world  around 
Foretold  but  life  and  love. 

O  no,  it  cannot  die, 

My  wondrous  dream  of  youth, 
The  time  before  I  knew 

How  sad  is  earthly  truth ; 

Before  I  saw  the  world 

When  stripped  of  veil  and  mask, 
Before  I  knew  how  sad, 

How  vain  the  dreamer's  task. 

And  though  I  trod  life's  path 
Of  grooves,  and  ruts,  and  mire, 

Youth's  shrine,  though  long  destroyed, 
Yet  sheds  a  sacred  fire. 


DREAMS  OF  YOUTH  185 

Thus  trembles  still  a  tune, 

Although  the  cord  is  rent ; 
Thus,  though  the  rose  be  dead, 

Still  fragrant  is  its  scent. 


186  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


D  EFORE  his  statue  long  I  stood ; 
It  seemed  to  me  I  understood 

His  heart's  desire : 
To  carry  heaven's  light  to  men, 
Though  he  must  suffer  torture  then 

For  stealing  fire. 


But  one  sad  thought  perplexed  my  soul : 
My  ancient  people  never  stole 

God's  treasured  light ; 
To  them  His  flame  Himself  He  gave, 
When  life  was  dim,  when  man  was  slave 

And  wrapped  in  night. 


PROMETHEUS  187 


Prometheus,  though  thy  woe  be  great, 
Yet  sadder  is  my  people's  fate, 

Their  grief  and  pain  ; 

To  men  they  brought  God's  treasured  flame, 
And  suffered  torture,  wrong,  and  shame 

In  vain,  in  vain ! 


Before  his  statue  when  I  stood, 
And  saw  the  vulture  drink  his  blood, 

I  sadly  thought : 

My  people,  too,  through  endless  years 
Shed  streams  of  blood  and  floods  of  tears 

For  light  they  brought. 


1 88  SONGS  OF  A   WANDERER 


Cf)e  Linnet 

IT  AVE  you  heard  the  linnet  trilling, 

To  discover  did  you  try 
What  is  hidden  in  her  carol- 
Does  she  sing  or  does  she  cry  ? 

I  am  singing  like  the  linnet, 

When  my  heart  does  pine  and  long ; 
Love,  and  pain,  and  joy,  and  sorrow, 

All  are  hidden  in  my  song. 


TO  MY  NEAREST  FRIEND  189 


Co  Q@v  Nearest  jFrienD 

Forgive  ! 

side  by  side  lived  many  years, 
And  from  the  hour  we  first  did  meet 
We  fairly  shared  life's  smiles  and  tears, 
We  shared  life's  bitter  herbs  and  sweet. 

And  oft  you  brightened  like  a  star 
The  dark  horizon  of  my  heart  ; 

And  still  we  oft  were  near  and  far, 
Both  knit  in  one,  and  yet  apart. 

Your  soul  is  simple,  kind,  and  true, 
But  mine,  forgive,  you  oft  mistook  ; 

The  dreamer's  soul  remained  to  you 
With  seven  seals  a  sealed  book. 
13 


1 90  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Forgive ! 

I  know  not  what  it  might  have  been, 
If  you  had  read  that  book  aright ; 

Perchance  we  both  would  then  have  seen 
Life's  goal  in  quite  a  different  light. 


LIFE 


191 


Life 

\A7HEN  thy  sky  sheds  golden  light 

On  thy  earth  all  bloom-bedight, 

Full  of  fragrance  and  delight, 

And  thy  heart  believes  in  right, 

Virtue,  manliness,  and  truth — 

Thine  is  happy  youth. 


When  from  nature's  hidden  stream 
Flows  into  thy  heart  a  dream 
That  makes  life  a  poet's  theme, 
And  the  earth  an  Eden  seem, 
Fair  and  pure  as  heav'n  above — • 
Friend,  thou  art  in  love ! 


1 92  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

When  thy  earth  seems  one  vast  plain, 
Whereon  men,  with  might  and  main, 
Struggle  something  to  attain : 
Rise,  and  fall,  and  rise  again, 
Wounding,  wounded  in  the  strife — 
Thou  but  seest  life. 


When  thy  earth  looks  grey  and  old, 
Like  an  autumn  barren  wold, 
And  thy  heart,  so  lone  and  cold, 
Feels  as  though  its  tale  is  told — 
Youth,  and  love,  and  life,  dear  friend, 
All  proclaim  the  end. 


A  PROCESSION  193 


3  procession 

was  that  night,  I  remember, 
Late  in  the  month  of  December, 
Freezing,  and  snowing,  and  hailing, 
Sadly  the  north-wind  was  wailing, 
Wailing,  like  one  who  beseeches 
Shelter  from  demons  and  witches 
That  in  the  Tsar's  dismal  regions 
Crowd  the  dark  forests  in  legions. 

And  in  that  night  of  December 
I  a  procession  remember — 
Not  a  procession  of  freemen — 
Men-folk,  and  children,  and  women, 
Driven  along  without  pity 
Out  of  the  Tsar's  holy  city. 

Faces  so  pallid  and  fearful, 

Eyes  looking  frightened  and  tearful, 


194  SONGS  OF  A   WANDERER 

Shivering  bodies  scant-covered — 

Death  shadows  over  them  hovered — 

Passing  in  dismal  procession. 

What  was  their  crime,  their  transgression  ? 

Ah,  in  those  holy  dominions 

Heresies  were  their  opinions. 

Hailing  it  was  then  and  snowing, 
Fiercely  the  north-wind  was  blowing, 
Piping  so  mournful  a  ditty. 
Pouring  out  sighs  on  the  city. 

Sadly  I  watched  as  they  wandered. 
Where  are  they  led  to — I  pondered — 
Which  friendly  haven  will  greet  them, 
Which  friendly  countenance  meet  them, 
Where  are  on  earth  their  defenders, 
Theirs,  the  eternal  offenders? 

Plodding  they  clung  to  each  other, 
Parents,  and  sister,  and  brother, 


A  PROCESSION  195 

Slowly  and  heavily  pacing, 

Mothers  their  infants  embracing, 

And  with  their  mouth  breath  them  warming. 

Wildly  the  north-wind  was  storming, 

And  as  they  walked  in  depression, 

Meseemed  'twas  a  ghostly  procession. 

Sadly  that  night  of  December 
I  shall  forever  remember  1 


196  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


OnDaunteD 

/~PHE  flowers  bud,  the  flowers  fade, 

The  sun-lit  day  grows  cold ; 
The  streamlets  flow,  the  streamlets  freeze, 
The  year  is  growing  old. 

The  cradle  and  the  tomb  are  twins, 

Go  arm  in  arm  on  earth ; 
And  love  is  pain,  and  joy  is  grief, 

And  sadness  lurks  in  mirth. 

Hear  life's  echo  calling,  warning 

Man,  and  grove  and  field : 
"  Tender  flower,  soon  thou  f adest ; 

Oak,  thy  fate  is  sealed. 

Maiden,  short-lived  is  thy  beauty ; 

Child,  thou  growest  old ; 
Sunny  summer,  swift  thy  parting — 

Winter  marches  cold. 


UNDAUNTED  197 


Youth  departs,  and  beauty  withers, 
Life  on  earth  is  doomed." 

I  alone  shall  never  wither — I 
I  have  never  bloomed. 

Winter  has  for  me  no  horror — 

Spring  I  have  not  seen  ; 
Age?  I  fear  not  its  arrival — 

Young  I  have  not  been. 

Life  can  ne'er  claim  back  the  treasures 

It  refused  to  give: 
I  shall  never  fade  nor  perish — 

I  did  never  live. 


i98  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


\  Co  a  Critic 

\\7 HAT !    I  do  not  sing— I  cry ! 
And  you  wonder  why  ? 

Have  you  ever  tried,  my  friend, 

E'er  to  suffer  to  no  end, 

Life  to  be  an  empty  name, 

With  no  goal  in  it,  no  aim, 

Oft  to  read  on  every  face 

Open  joy  at  your  disgrace : 
Your  fate  decided, 
Your  dreams  derided, 
Your  talents  unheeded, 
Your  virtues  unneeded, 
Your  presence  a  danger — 
To  all  men  a  stranger ; 

With  heavens  grey  and  dull  as  lead 

Hanging  o'er  thy  head  ? 


TO  A  CRITIC  199 


Or,  did  you  in  a  desert  stray, 
Seeing  no  escape,  no  way, 
Carried  by  some  fatal  blast 
To  no  future  from  no  past ; 
Void  of  dreams,  and  void  of  hope, 
Slide  some  fatal  slope 

Of  an  abyss 

You  cannot  miss; 
And  yet, 
Love,  and  pine,  and  feel  regret? 

You,  who  have  a  home,  a  friend, 
This  will  never  comprehend, 
And  you  must  not  ask  me  why 
I,  an  exile  singer,  cry ! 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Ctoo 

'"THE  mother  bird  sat  with  her  babe  on  a  twig ; 
The  little  one  tremblingly  lisped  to  the  big : 

"  O  mother,  I  shudder,  O  mother,  I  fear 
A  man  with  a  gun  I  saw  passing  us  near. 

O  mother,  I  saw  he  was  lifting  his  head, 

O  mother,  I  fear  he  will  shoot  us  both  dead." 

The  mother  bird  soothed  her  baby's  alarm : 
"  O  worry  not,  darling,  he'll  do  us  no  harm  ; 

Thou  hearest  the  thunders  on  sea  and  on  shore — 
All  these  are  the  signals  of  mankind  at  war. 

O  worry  not,  darling,  his  gun  do  not  mind : 
The  man  is  too  busy  with  killing  his  kind." 


TO-MORROW 


\J( 


Y  day  is  a  father,  a  mother  my  night, 

Their  child  is,  dear  friend,  my  to-morrow  ; 
How  can  I  expect  that  their  child  will  be  bright  — 
An  offspring  of  gloom  and  of  sorrow?   • 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


autumn 

A  LL  the  songs  are  sung, 
All  the  birds  are  fled ; 
Hill  and  dale  proclaim : 
"  Summer  fair  is  dead." 

Sullen,  cloud-veiled  skies 
Look  on  earth  and  weep ; 

Meadow,  wood,  and  field 
Robe  in  mourning  deep ; 

And  the  angry  wind, 
With  its  icy  breath, 

Carries  round  the  tale 
Of  the  summer's  death. 

Autumn  in  the  skies, 
Autumn  in  the  air; 

Autumn  fills  the  soul, 
Autumn  everywhere. 


AUTUMN  203 

Doleful  days  like  these 

I  prefer  to  spend 
With  my  speechless  grief — • 

With  my  bosom-friend. 

Long-gone  days  revive, 

Crowd  in  gloomy  hosts ; 
Childhood,  youth  emerge 

From  their  graves  like  ghosts ; 

Childhood  that  had  gone, 

Void  of  joy  and  light ; 
Youth  that  fled  away, 

Cold  and  dark  as  night. 

And  a  voice  half-choked 

Whispers  in  my  ear: 
"  Exile  child,  thy  life 

Passed  like  autumn  drear ; 


204  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Starless  were  thy  nights, 
Sunless  were  thy  days ; 

Ne'er  to  thee  have  smiled 
Heaven's  cheerful  rays. 

Sorrow  gave  thee  birth, 
Exile  was  thy  nurse; 

Cruel  fate  has  sealed 
On  thy  brow  a  curse, 

Like  the  autumn  wind 
Aimlessly  to  roam, 

Wander  round  the  earth, 
Nowhere  find  a  home; 

Bear  a  pining  soul, 
Look  with  tearful  eyes 

On  the  world  and  men — • 
Like  the  autumn  skies ; 


AUTUMN  205 

Like  an  autumn  field, 

Void  of  heaven's  beams, 
Bear  an  empty  heart, 

Void  of  hope  and  dreams ; 

And  from  birth  to  grave 

Trudge  a  thorny  way, 
Like  a  funeral  train 

In  an  autumn  day." 


14 


206  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


\A7HEN  the  stars  by  night  sing  vespers, 

And  devoutly  shine, 
From  above  a  still  voice  whispers : 
"  One  of  them  is  thine." 

As  I  lift  my  eyes  in  wonder, 

I  behold  my  star : 
Lone  and  pale  it  travels  yonder, 

Cold,  and  dim,  and  far. 


ALONE  IN  THE  DESERT  207 


3lone  in  tfje  Desert 

\/f Y  guiding  light  is  dying, 

The  night  is  cold  and  dark : 
I  can't  find  in  the  desert 
My  way  without  a  spark. 

My  guiding  light  is  dying, 
In  vain  I  strain  my  sight . 

For  boundless  is  the  desert, 
Engulfed  in  starless  night. 

My  guiding  light  is  dying — 
No  gleam,  no  moon,  no  star ; 

My  way  is  wrapped  in  darkness, 
The  day,  alas,  is  far ! 


208  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Co  Life 

/^OME  with  me  to  justice,  life, 

If  thou  fear  not  truth : 
Thou  has  robbed  me  of  my  dreams, 
Treasures  of  my  youth. 

For  thy  blissful  moments  few 
Thou  hast  charged  me  years, 

And  for  every  treacherous  smile — 
Disillusion,  tears. 

Pure  and  faithful  was  my  heart 

When  I  was  a  child  ; 
Why  hast  thou  my  trust,  my  faith, 

And  my  love  defiled  ? 

Come  with  me  to  justice,  life, 

If  thou  fear  not  truth : 
Give  my  dreams  and  visions  back, 

Treasures  of  my  youth. 


TO  LIFE  209 

If  thou  canst  not  give  them  back, 

Why  prolong  the  strife  ? 
Void  of  youth  and  void  of  dreams, 

Who  can  prize  thee,  life? 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


\A7HEN  I  am  dead, 

Write  o'er  my  head, 

On  marble,  stone,  or  slate : 
Here  lies  a  man 
Who  life  did  scan 

With  aims  and  claims  too  great ; 
Who  free  and  proud 
Among  the  crowd 

Was  placed  by  cruel  fate ; 
Who  'midst  the  throng 
In  vain  did  long 

And  search  for  friend  or  mate ; 
^  Whom,  from  above 

I  Being  sent  to  love, 
1 

Life  could  not  teach  to  hate. 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  LOVE 


C&e  ^Fountain  of  JLofce 


,  each  man  has  a  heart, 
And  each  heart  has  a  dream  ; 
Yet  of  one  they  are  part, 
Though  so  many  they  seem. 

Like  the  myriads  of  beams 
From  the  great  sun  above, 

To  men's  hearts  flow  all  dreams 
From  one  fountain  of  love. 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


§i)ouiu$t  Cfcou  COisij  to 

(After  the  Hebrew  of  Bialik) 

A  ND  shouldst  thou  wish  to  know  the  source 
From  which  thy  tortured  brethren  drew 
In  evil  days  their  strength  of  soul 
To  meet  their  doom,  stretch  out  their  necks 
To  each  uplifted  knife  and  axe, 
In  flames,  on  stakes  to  die  with  joy, 
And  with  a  whisper  "  God  is  one  " 
To  close  their  lips  ? 

And  shouldst  thou  wish  to  find  the  spring 
From  which  thy  banished  brethren  drew, 
'Midst  fear  of  death  and  fear  of  life, 
Their  comfort,  courage,  patience,  trust, 
And  iron  will  to  bear  their  yoke, 
To  live  bespattered  and  despised, 
And  suffer  to  no  end  ? 


AND  SHOULDST  THOU  WISH  TO  KNOW     213 

And  shouldst  thou  wish  to  see  the  lap 
Whereon  thy  people's  galling  tears 
In  ceaseless  torrents  fell  and  fell, 
And  hear  the  cries  that  moved  the  hills, 
And  thrilled  Satan  with  awe  and  grief, 
But  not  the  stony  heart  of  man, 
Than  Satan's  and  than  rock's  more  hard  ? 

And  shouldst  thou  wish  to  see  the  fort 

Wherein  thy  fathers  refuge  sought, 

And  all  their  sacred  treasures  hid, 

The  refuge  that  has  still  preserved 

Thy  nation's  soul  intact  and  pure, 

And  when  despised,  and  scorned,  and  scoffed, 

Their  faith  they  did  not  shame? 

And  shouldst  thou  wish  to  see  and  know 
Their  mother,  faithful,  loving,  kind, 
Who  gathered  all  the  burning  tears 
Of  her  bespattered,  hapless  sons, 
And  when  to  her  in  grief  they  came, 


2i4  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

She  tenderly  wiped  off  their  tears, 
And  sheltered  them,  and  shielded  them, 
And  lulled  them  on  her  lap  to  sleep  ? 

If  thou,  my  brother,  knowest  not 
This  mother,  spring,  and  lap,  and  fort, 
Then  enter  thou  the  House  of  God, 
The  House  of  Study,  old  and  grey, 
Throughout  the  sultry  summer  days, 
Throughout  the  gloomy  winter  nights. 
At  morning,  midday,  or  at  eve ; 
Perchance  there  is  a  remnant  yet, 
Perchance  thy  eye  may  still  behold 
In  some  dark  corner,  hid  from  view, 
A  cast-off  shadow  of  the  past, 
The  profile  of  some  pallid  face, 
Upon  an  ancient  folio  bent, 
Who  seeks  to  drown  unspoken  woes 
In  the  talmudic  boundless  waves ; 
And  then  thy  heart  shall  guess  the  truth 


AND  SHOULDST  THOU  WISH  TO  KNOW     215 

That  them  hast  touched  the  sacred  ground 
Of  thy  great  nation's  House  of  Life, 
And  that  thy  eyes  do  gaze  upon 
The  treasure  of  thy  nation's  soul. 

And  know  that  this  is  but  a  spark 
That  by  a  miracle  escaped 
Of  that  bright  light,  that  sacred  flame, 
Thy  forebears  kindled  long  ago 
On  altars  high  and  pure. 


2i6  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


3n  (Evening  Draper 

\A7HEN  the  dying  sun's  traces  of  blood 

Are  yet  staining  the  heaven's  blue  field, 
When  black  shadows  invade  hill  and  wood, 
And  the  doom  of  the  day  has  been  sealed ; 

Wnen  the  mist  robs  the  trees  of  their  gold, 
Of  their  crystal  each  streamlet  and  spring, 

When  the  flowers  do  shiver  with  cold 
At  the  flutter  of  night's  chilly  wing ; 

Then  my  prayer  to  heaven  I  send : 

"  God  of  mercy,  the  source  of  all  light, 

Be  a  shield,  and  a  guide,  and  a  friend 

To  all  strayed  who  are  guideless  by  night !  " 


THE  JEWISH  SOLDIER  217 


31etois& 

(An  episode  of  the  Russo-Japanese  war) 

LJE  was  both  young  and  brave, 

Of  iron  heart  and  hand ; 
He  loved  his  wife,  his  child, 
He  loved  his  native  land. 

But  when  the  bugle  called 

His  country  to  defend, 
Nor  home  could  keep  him  back, 

Nor  wife,  nor  child,  nor  friend. 

"  Good-bye,  dear  wife,"  he  said, 

"  And  if  in  field  I  fall, 
Be  sure  a  soldier  died, 

Obeying  duty's  call." 


zi8  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

And  bravely  fighting  for 
His  homeland  and  his  Tsar, 

Of  wife  and  child  he  dreamt,- 
They  were  his  guiding  star. 

A  wonder  to  his  mates, 

A  horror  to  his  foe, 
No  danger,  hunger,  thirst 

He  seemed  to  care  or  know. 

His  fighting  mates  came  home, 
The  battle  long  was  o'er  ; 

He,  too,  came  home,  alas, 
To  find  his  home  no  more. 

His  wife  and  child  were  slain, 
While  he  from  them  was  far, 

By  holy  Russia's  sons, 
The  favoured  of  his  Tsar. 


THE  JEWISH  SOLDIER  219 

A  shapeless  heap  he  found, 
Where  erst  his  cottage  stood ; 

And  in  that  heap  he  saw 
The  traces  of  their  blood. 

A  heap  of  blood  and  dust, 

No  living  soul  was  there ; 
The  dauntless  heart  in  war 

Was  conquered  by  despair. 

The  heart  in  field  unhurt 

Was  pierced  by  fate's  sore  dart. 

The  stream,  the  cold,  black  stream, 
Did  heal  his  wounded  heart. 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Ctoo  Cf)tonc0 

(Dedicated  to  the  memory  of  Dr.  Theodor  Herzl) 

c  4  I  S  it  true,  O  tell  me,  mother, 

What  I  was  in  Cheder  told  ? 
That  there  are  two  thrones  in  heaven, 
One  of  tears  and  one  of  gold. 

That  the  throne  of  gold  by  Gentiles 
Was  presented  for  God's  use, 

And  the  throne  of  tears — unused  yet — 
Was  the  humble  gift  of  Jews. 

But  one  day  when  great  Jehovah 
Will  ascend  our  throne  with  might, 

All  our  tears  will  turn  to  diamonds, 
And  will  shed  a  wondrous  light. 


TWO  THRONES 


Then  Messiah,  long  expected, 
Will  forsake  the  gates  of  Rome, 

And  will  lead  the  exiled  people 
Back  to  their  ancestral  home. 

But,  alas,  our  throne  is  faulty, 
For  it  lacks  a  single  screw, — 

Dearest  mother,  what  a  pity! 
Is  it,  prithee,  really  true  ?  " 

"  True,  my  child,"  the  mother  answered, 
"  What  you  were  in  Cheder  told ; 

But  that  screw,  it  must  be,  darling, 
Not  of  tears,  and  not  of  gold. 

Nay,  it  must  be  forged  of  courage 
In  a  brave,  true  Jewish  heart ; 

But,  alas,  my  child,  we  cannot 

Find  a  place  that  work  to  start, 
is 


SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Thus  our  throne  remains  unfinished, 
And  throughout  the  endless  years, 

We  are  vainly  weeping,  weeping, 
Merely  adding  useless  tears." 

For  a  while  the  boy  stood  musing, 
Murm'ring  softly :  "  Is  it  true?  " 

Then  exclaimed  with  childish  fervor; 
"  Mother,  I  shall  forge  the  screw." 


SPRING  AND  AUTUMN  223 


anD  autumn 

Spring. 

HTHE  earth  and  the  heaven  both  rival 

To  celebrate  nature's  revival  ; 
Beholding  prince  spring  on  arrival, 

The  mountains  and  forests  salute. 
On  carpets  of  silk  softly  treading, 
Sweet  nectar  from  flower-cups  shedding, 
A  guest  at  the  world's  golden  wedding,  . 

He  plays  on  a  gold-spangled  lute. 
The  heaven  sends  sun  rays  to  treat  him, 
The  streamlets  speed  gaily  to  meet  him, 
The  birds  with  their  chorus  to  greet  him 

My  heart,  why  alone  is  it  mute  ? 

Autumn. 

Dark  shadows  and  clouds  are  parading, 
The  gloomy  earth  gloomier  shading, 


224  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

The  pale,  frightened  flowers  are  fading, 

The  birds  their  sad  exodus  start. 
The  cornfield,  laid  waste  by  the  reaper, 
In  mourning  robes  deeper  and  deeper, 
The  heaven,  dead  summer's  beweeper, 

Sheds  tears  for  the  joys  that  depart. 
The  dull  days,  each  other  resembling, 
The  shadows,  like  night  ghosts  assembling, 
Each  leaf  and  each  heart  set  a-trembling — 
Who  wakes  then  a  song  in  my  heart  ? 


MY  KATE  225' 


mate 

YOU,    of   the    set   whom   the   vulgar   call 
"  smart," 

O  you,  who  unblushingly  state 
That  wedlock  and  love  are  two  things  quite  apart 

And  rarely  united  by  fate, 
Come  visit  my  cottage,  before  you  depart 

To  sell  or  to  purchase  a  mate, 
And  see  what  in  life  is  a  woman's  true  part, 

How  love  renders  noble  and  great ; 
And  see  that  the  queen  of  my  house  and  my  heart, 

My  wife  and  my  love,  is  my  Kate. 


226  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 


Ctoo 

coal  on  the  stone  hearth  is  glowing  ablaze  ; 
I  sit  on  my  grandmother's  knee,  and  I  gaze 
At  fiery  serpents  that  rise  and  that  fall, 
And  caper  with  shadows  that  skip  on  the  wall, 
Enshrouding  the  room  with  a  fairy-knit  veil, 
While  grandmother  tells  me  her  charming  old  tale. 

There  lived  a  godly  man, 
Who  ancient  books  did  scan 
To  learn  the  ways  of  God 
And  paths  the  righteous  trod. 
He  had  a  godly  heart 
That  for  all  wronged  did  smart, 
And  prayed  to  God  that  he 
The  earth  from  ill  might  free. 


TWO  MAGICIANS  227 

And  heaven  kind  at  length 
Endowed  with  magic  strength 
The  sage  who  prayed  and  longed 
To  help  and  right  the  wronged. 

And  God  did  him  reveal 
A  talisman,  to  heal, 
To  solace,  help,  and  cheer 
All  mankind,  far  and  near, 
And  wonders  to  perform: 
To  chain  the  waves  and  storm, 
And,  like  a  bird  on  high, 
To  rise  and  soar  in  sky, 
That  neither  time,  nor  space 
Should  stay  his  work  of  grace. 

Thus  many,  many  years 

He  wiped  off  human  tears ; 

Wherever  he  appeared 

The  wronged  were  helped  and  cheered. 


228  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

My  grandmother  dear  (be  her  memory  blessed) 

Repaired  long  ago  to  her  heavenly  rest. 

I  grew,  and  life  tells  me  a  story  as  strange, 

Albeit  the  magician  with  ages  did  change. 

For  now  our  magician  makes  nature  his  slave : 

He  fetters  the  tempest  and  bridles  the  wave, 

His  voice  all  over  the  world  can  be  heard, 

He  fathoms  the  ocean,  he  soars  like  a  bird, 

He  measures  the  earth  in  its  breadth,  in  its  length ; 

'Stead  virtue  and  mercy  his  motto  is  strength, 

And  oft  his  great  magic  he  does  but  employ 

To  plunder  and  ruin,  to  kill  and  destroy. 

O  how  our  magician  is  great  in  his  art ! 

One  thing  he  is  lacking — a  heart,  but  a  heart. 


TO  MY  LOVE  229 


Co  opp  JLotie 

(A  Serenade) 

\A/ERE  the  stars  but  aware 
That  to  them  I  compare, 

Love,  thy  eyes, 
Full  of  glee  they  would  shine 
With  a  light  more  divine 

In  the  skies. 


Were  the  roses  aware 

That  their  breath  I  compare, 

Love,  to  thine, 
Vale  and  meadow  and  hill 
They  with  fragrance  would  fill, 

Like  sweet  wine. 


230  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Were  the  skylark  aware 
That  thy  voice  I  compare 

To  its  trill, 

With  its  magic  sweet  song 
Wood  and  dale  all  day  long 

It  would  fill. 

Were  my  heart  but  aware 
That  a  song  or  a  prayer 

Hearts  could  move, 
Like  a  lark  in  the  spring 
I  would  pray,  and  would  sing 

Hymns  of  love. 


THE  LIME-TREE  231 


Ci)e  Li 

,  thou  radiant  skies  adorest, 


And  thou  askest  why 
I  prefer  the  shady  forest 
To  the  sun-lit  sky! 

By  the  house,  where  I  was  born, 

Once  a  lime-tree  stood  ; 
A  survivor,  lost  and  lorn, 

Of  a  man-wrecked  wood. 

All  too  soon  my  childhood  ended, 

Lone  I  likewise  grew  ; 
And  we  both  became  befriended  — 

Lonely  orphans  two. 

And  our  sorrows  to  each  other 

We  confided  then  ; 
I,  a  child  without  a  mother, 

He,  a  tree  'mong  men. 


232  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Oft,  when  woe  my  soul  invaded, 
'Neath  his  heart-shaped  leaf, 

Solaced,  comforted,  and  shaded, 
I  forgot  my  grief. 

And  at  length,  when  we  were  parted, 

Driven  by  my  fate, 
None  did  sigh  so  faithful-hearted 

As  my  lime-tree  mate. 

Child,  thou  radiant  skies  adorest, 
Canst  thou  now  guess  why 

I  love  more  the  shady  forest 
Than  the  glowing  sky  ? 


MY  FATE  233 


JFate 


night,  when  dejected 
I  sat  in  my  room, 
She  came  unexpected 

Through  shadows  and  gloom. 

She  fairy-like  glided, 

Approached  me,  and  smiled  ; 
"  Thy  fate  is  decided," 

She  murmured,  "  dear  child. 

(For,  lo,  my  decisions 
Have  heaven's  assent) 

Thy  life  just  in  visions 
Henceforth  shall  be  spent. 

The  years  shall  be  streaming, 
But  thee  they  shall  miss, 

For  thou  shalt  be  dreaming 
Of  youth  and  of  bliss. 


234  SONGS  OF  A    WANDERER 

Though  autumn  and  showers 
The  earth  shall  invade, 

Thy  heart-watered  flowers 
Shall  bloom  undecayed ; 

And  though  thou  art  driven, 
And  sufferest  wrong, 

Thy  earth  shall  be  heaven, 
Thy  sigh  just  a  song." 

She  having  thus  spoken 
Her  blessing  or  curse, 

The  darkness  was  broken, 
The  clouds  did  disperse; 

The  moon  came  out  shining 
In  silver  above ; — 

Since  then  I  am  pining 
For  youth  and  for  love. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Book  Slip-25m-9,'59(A4772s4)4280 


UCLA-College  Library 

PS  3535  R1837S 


L  005  744  594  2 


Library 


1 001 ,207  370    6 


